


A Case of the Honeymoons

by katnissdoesnotfollowback



Series: A Case of the Honeymoons [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Did I mention the smut?, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, LOTS of Shameless Smut, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnissdoesnotfollowback/pseuds/katnissdoesnotfollowback
Summary: Yep. Haymitch cursed us. I'm sure of it. He stepped on my wedding dress train and since then, Peeta and I can't catch a break. One awkward thing after another keeps happening. Is it too much to ask for a chance at one time, just ONE! uneventful time having sex with my husband? No?Everlark through the years...with a bad case of Honeymoon-itis.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: A Case of the Honeymoons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705981
Comments: 118
Kudos: 137





	1. The Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Spring cleaning continues! I wrote the first chapter of this well over a year ago, based on a request from an anonymous person on tumblr for Everlark on their honeymoon, preferably with smut. Well then I started having ideas and here we are, with six-ish chapters written and none of it on AO3. I will post one chapter here every week on Thursday or Friday, depending on my work schedule, and maybe by the time I get the first six chapters up, I will finally have the seventh and final chapter done. Don't hold your breath for that, this is called hopeful motivation what we're doing here.
> 
> There is also an outtake/additional chapter that I wrote for the 2019 everlarkficexchange. I will post that separately, but as part of a series with this piece. If you're wanting updates on when that goes up, follow the series as well.
> 
> As always, comments welcome and Happy Reading! ;)

Six months of insanity all for this moment. 

I keep leaning forward, trying to catch a glimpse as each of my closest friends heads down the aisle with bright smiles on their faces. Each time I try, Haymitch pulls me back with a loud sigh.

“I promise you, that boy is at the altar waiting,” he grumbles as he pulls me back and the doors shut while Prim takes the walk. “He probably camped out on it last night...wearing his tuxedo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Haymitch rolls his eyes and I scowl at him, prod him until he answers.

“That boy’s wanted to marry you for at least five years. No way in hell he’d skip this wedding.”

I huff and adjust my dress as we take our place behind the closed door. I’m not really worried about Peeta getting cold feet or not being at the altar. I know he’ll be waiting for me because he loves me. Really, I just want to see him. Now. An hour ago. Any time during the past twenty-four hours. I wish we’d camped out on the altar together. At least then I’d have gotten to sleep with his arms around me. The wedding planning has been driving us both insane for the past six months.

Actually it’s his mother’s ideas on wedding planning that’s been driving us insane. The last straw was when she pitched a fit about us living together and bullied him into moving back home for the weeks leading up to the actual ceremony. Something about a symbolic cleansing before we were joined, I don’t know. I didn’t hear much beyond the realization that she wanted to ignore the fact we’ve been living together for two years now, just so she can pretend that her son is some kind of pure unicorn of a man and I’m his innocent little flower.

Pah!

I did consider telling her that the night before we had that conversation, her sweet innocent Peeta removed my panties with his teeth and then made me scream until my voice was hoarse, but I didn’t want to cause a heart attack and have my groom mourning his mother on our wedding day…

Really though, it was Peeta’s reassurances that convinced me to go along with the asinine idea.

“Remember those two weeks you spent in California for work?” He’d whispered while I grumbled about how preposterous his mother was being. “How hot it was when you got back? How desperate we were for each other? We didn’t leave that bed for two days.” Just as it did when he whispered those words, another shot of pure lust courses through me, making me shiver and clench my thighs together as a heaviness settles in my center. The layers of my skirt swish against my legs, decadent chiffon that feels far more sensual than this symbol of purity should.

“Where are you going with this?” I had whispered back, fingers plucking at his shirt collar as I mentally worked through all the places in his mother’s house where we could lock ourselves away and go at it right then. And actually, we did leave the bed after those two weeks I spent in California, because I distinctly recall the rug burns on my knees from the time in the hallway.

“Think about how amazing, how...explosive it’ll be if we go a whole month without. All that waiting and anticipation. Besides...we could still make out and tease one another,” Peeta had argued.

So I caved. Like a moron. And now I’m jittery and strung up tight, anxious and turned on and desperate to just get married already.

But it will finally be over today. We’ll be married, he’ll move back home with me, and we’ll finally break this month long dry spell we’ve been in because of stress and his mother. We’ve barely managed a decent makeout session in the past month, despite his promise. His brother stealing his phone last night, which effectively put the idea of pre-wedding phone sex in the grave, didn’t help either.

Whose idea was this extravagant wedding anyways?

The music changes and the doors open. My breath catches as my eyes are drawn immediately to his. He’s so handsome and I swear his jaw drops as he takes me in. All of his mother’s ridiculous separations and controls in the name of antiquated traditions might be worth it just for this look on his face and the way it makes me feel positively giddy.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Haymitch murmurs and tugs gently on my arm. “Think you two have waited long enough.”

Once my feet start moving, he has to hold me back to keep our pace sedate. Every part of me longs to run down the aisle. Straight into Peeta’s arms. Traditions be damned, I want my body to collide with his this instant. No one exists in this room except for us.

_ Wow _ , he mouths as I get closer, his blue eyes shining with stunned love. It’s only one word, but leaving him speechless or reduced to one word tells me just how much this is affecting him too. I know exactly what he’s saying. I can’t believe we’re actually getting married. 

But I’m so happy that we are.

He reaches out for me and I forget that I’m supposed to wait for Haymitch to answer some stupid question. My fingers slide against Peeta’s, eyes locked together as a surge of warmth flows through me. I already knew this would’ve happened anyways, us getting married, but there’s something about it being real at last that’s overwhelming my senses.

“Uh who presents this woman to be married?” The preacher stumbles over the words since I’ve already deviated from the script.

“Clearly she gives herself away, my friend,” Haymitch says and squeezes my shoulder once before turning to take his seat. “I’m just here for the cocktail hour.”

Laughter ripples through the church and Peeta’s smile widens, his eyes still fixed on mine.

Then there’s a collective gasp behind me and a tug on my back. Peeta’s eyes flick to a spot behind me. I feel like I’m being pulled down. Peeta rushes forward, fear in his eyes as he grabs hold of me.

When I regain my balance, I look back in time for the nervous laughter and to see Haymitch wave at the guests.

“We’re okay,” he says and flops in his seat. My Aunt Effie scolds him furiously. My mother covers her mouth to contain her laughter, tears glistening in her eyes. There’s a dark footprint right in the middle of my train and for some crazy reason, it makes me laugh.

When I turn back towards the front, Peeta’s holding back laughter and gently pulling me the rest of the way up the steps.

“Haymitch almost causes a disaster… now I know it’s not a dream,” Peeta whispers. Hang tradition. I stand on my toes and kiss his jaw, letting my lips linger on his skin.

Oh he smells so good too. A bolt of pure heat shoots through me and I suddenly can’t wait for the ceremony to be over. For a chance to peel that tuxedo off of him.

All through the vows, I can barely contain my laughter. Peeta’s fighting it too, and the only thing keeping me from losing it is his steady warmth as he holds both my hands, his thumbs caressing over the backs. His unwavering gaze. 

The warmth inside me steadily grows, distracting me from the words I repeat. He looks down at our hands as he slides the ring on my finger, and while the interplay of our hands is innocent, my thoughts are anything but.

He isn’t just handsome in his tuxedo. He’s sexy as fuck. The coat fits his shoulders just right, accentuating just how broad and strong he is. If the tailor got that right, I can only imagine how sexy he looks from the back right now. Stupid audience gets to stare at his ass for half an hour while I haven’t even seen it today. I push aside the irrational jealousy as the preacher starts to wind down, because he’s mine now. Peeta’s my husband for real.

“You may kiss the bride,” we’re finally told. Peeta keeps it chaste and short, but even just that brush of his lips on mine makes me crave so much more.

I don’t get what I want just yet, which is five minutes alone with my husband. First we have to walk back down the aisle, then we have to take pictures. Thankfully, hiring the photographer was something Peeta and I handled exclusively. Octavia makes the whole thing seamless, and mostly painless, starting with group pictures and slowly whittling down the number of people in the room. When it’s finally just us, there’s still a few pictures to be taken. But I can’t stop touching him. 

After about a dozen pictures, Octavia suggests we move to the gardens out back. Maybe it’s the softened sunlight through the trees or the natural bowers of blossoms surrounding us or maybe it’s the heady fragrance and the petals that float on the breeze, or maybe it’s just him, but when Octavia tells us that she’s done and she’ll meet us at the reception, I can’t bring myself to move from our spot beneath an apple tree in full bloom, my bouquet sitting on the stone bench nearby.

“How long does cocktail hour last?” I ask and he glances at his watch.

“Another forty minutes unless we get there before that.”

“Peeta,” I say and grab hold of his jacket lapels, pulling him close. “We’re married.”

“We’re married,” he echoes with a bright smile, his hands sliding up and down my back. I shake my head because I know he’s not getting it. 

“No,” I say and press my body flush to his, my eyes riveted to his lips. “I mean...we’re  _ married _ .”

Then I yank on his lapels again until his mouth crashes down on mine. He takes a deep breath as I kiss him and I’m not sure if he’s going to try to argue so I keep kissing him and holding tight to his tuxedo jacket. His hands clench and he brings me closer. Tight enough to feel that he’s already half hard. There’s no way just this kiss did that to him. I haven’t had enough time.

I slowly pull back to stare at his dazed, eyes closed expression. “You’ve been turned on for awhile now.”

He opens his eyes and stares down at me, a look of almost guilt on his face.

“I know we were supposed to be having pure thoughts about matrimony and how happy we are that we’re in love and getting married during the sermon—“

“But all you could think about was consummating the marriage?” I tease. He stutters for a moment as I rock my hips against him and he groans. “Same here, Peeta.”

“Really?” He whispers and I nod. His fingers trace absently up my spine then trace along the back line of my dress, skimming sensually across my skin, heightening my desire for him. “So...what do you want to do about it?”

We move at the same time. His hands cup my jaw and his tongue caresses mine in a wild kiss. I maneuver him back until his legs hit the stone bench and he goes down, breaking our kiss.

“Oof!”

“Oh. Sorry,” I say and he adjusts his leg.

“It’s fine. Get down here.” He lifts layers upon layers of fabric, holding my dress out of the way as I climb atop him, straddle him and immediately start grinding on him.

“I miss sleeping next to you,” I say as I wind my fingers through his hair and move, my lips already slick with need and only growing slicker. “You’re too damn sexy in this tux.”

Peeta laughs and runs his hands over me, the dress still a barrier in most places, but the feel of his hands caressing over the fabric and the look in his eyes, like he’s desperate to touch skin but can’t wait to touch me and will take what he can get right now adds to the sensuality.

“You’re always breathtaking but today...I can’t even come up with words for how beautiful you are. I really am the luckiest man on earth. I can’t wait to go home with you and start our married life.”

“Yes,” I whine and my head rolls back with the feelings washing over me. But I want to see him. I haven’t seen enough of him the past month, so I bring myself back up to watch him swallow heavily, his lashes fluttering with pent up need. “I need you. So bad.”

“We have to be fast,” he warns. “Or is this just a tease?”

“Fuck no. Get your cock inside me, husband.” He’s smiling as we kiss and I lift myself enough to give him room to work with. His hands search beneath the fabric for his belt and zipper. I keep kissing his ears and tugging on his hair, my hips searching for friction and grinding on air. He whispers to my throat about how long he’s wanted this.

“You’ve wanted to fuck under a tree in a public garden for years?”

“Yes. No!” He says and smiles up at me as his fingers brush my lips for a second before shifting aside the lace panties I’m wearing. “I’ve loved you for so long, Katniss I can't remember when it started or how. I just know that I want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you.”

“Should have let you write the vows,” I say, moaning when his tip parts my lips.

“I did anyways.”

“Oh Peeta,” I moan as I sink into him, resting my forehead on his shoulder. He shushes me, reminding me that anyone could walk upon us at any moment, even though it’s reserved for our wedding. But I can’t bring myself to care. The skirt on my dress is big enough that the way Peeta has arranged it, no one will actually see anything, even if it is obvious what we’re doing.

“I want to hear those vows you wrote tonight.” I rock my hips and rest my forehead on his so I can stare into his eyes. “But I can’t wait any longer for this. I need you.”

“Take me, Katniss. I’m yours. Always,” he vows and finds my hand, laces our fingers together and brings them to his mouth to kiss me. And when I spot the flash of gold on his finger, I know. I won’t last long. Not with the feel of him inside me, thick and filling me to the brim, stroking deep. Not with the feel of my lace panties caught between us, burning pleasure across my clit with each roll of my hips. Not with his gentle touches and heated whispers. And definitely not with the way he’s looking at me. So much desire and love, promise and hope packed into one set of eyes.

It’s barely a minute or two before I feel the first tremors and shuddering breaths leave my mouth to caress his lips. And then his name and a soft “I love you” as I come apart, yanking on his hair and heedless of the hard stone beneath my knees.

“Coming,” he gasps. “Coming with you, Katniss. Oh fuck can’t stop. I love you too.”

Our bodies take over, joined and climaxing in rolling waves of flames and colors, the only movement the pulsing of release and the heaving of chests. When we’re both done, we fall still, holding each other and unable to move for several minutes.

“Oh god,” I finally moan and he laughs, the sound breathless and stunned. He lifts my chin and kisses me. Sweet as honey. Pure and loving.

“Better?” he asks when I finally lift my head.

“So much better,” I say with a satisfied sigh. “Worth the wait but I’m not sure I can make it that long again. You?”

“We’re married. Everything else is just extra frosting on the cake to me.”

“Oh...cake,” I say as my stomach grumbles and Peeta laughs. He helps me stand and then we fix each others’ appearance. Luckily, Peeta was careful where he touched me, so my hair is intact. I just need a quick lip gloss refresh and then we’re ready. 

Hand in hand, we make our way to the reception, hopefully with none of our family and friends the wiser.


	2. The Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's where the embarrassment really kicks off for these two... thou hast been warned. ;)

Twelve hours of insanity.

It’s actually probably more than that. It started this morning with making sure all our luggage was headed where it needed to go. Double checking that my brothers didn’t pull some kind of stunt with the cakes. From there, it was nonstop motion, keeping my mother from driving everyone insane, making sure the bridesmaids and the bride got lunch (without actually seeing my bride), getting dressed, and a hundred other things interspersed with a lot of waiting. Just waiting and hoping she wouldn’t change her mind.

All worth it for that moment when the doors opened and she walked through with a smile on her face. For the moment when our fingers entwined and lips sealed promises we made to each other months ago. Years ago, in my heart at least.

And then what happened afterwards. Spontaneous and a little wild but hot as hell. Which is why I’m a little nervous. 

Katniss is not exactly big on the corny or cliché romance stuff, so maybe I shouldn’t have indulged in my plans. I’m starting to feel like maybe it was selfish on my part, not actually spoiling her. The problem is, when I try to be lovey-dovey with her, sometimes she’ll roll her eyes and call me a dork, other times she seems to eat it up and almost crave it. The trick is figuring out which mood she’s in at any given moment.

I’m not sure it’s going to matter tonight, though. Katniss keeps resting her head on my shoulder and yawning. Popping back up every now and then to check our progress. It’s not a long drive to our hotel, and we’ll only be spending one night here. Tomorrow we’re headed to a cabin in the woods, her favorite place in the world, where we’ll be able to spend a week just for the two of us. No interruptions, no family squawking for attention or demanding we change our wedding or our lives to fit their needs. It’s what I’ve been looking forward to, and I think she has too.

The way she keeps slipping in and out, though, I have a feeling she’s just going to be dropping her wedding dress on the floor and flopping in bed to sleep. That will be nice, too. Sleeping next to her. Holding one another. I’ve missed that. There’s an emptiness in my dreams when she’s not beside me. The days are always so much easier to end and to start when she’s there.

I park the car and nudge her awake. The bags are already upstairs, so my hands are free to deal with Katniss.

“What kind of room do we have again? Is it one of the fancy suites with the memory foam mattress?”

“Only the best of luxury for you,” I say and she snorts a little as she laughs. We both know she doesn’t care about those things. Otherwise we wouldn’t be taking a rustic honeymoon. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to spoil her at least a little for our wedding.

When I open her car door, she practically spills out into my arms and I laugh as I catch her.

“Good. I want to sleep until ten minutes before check out and then be  _ that _ couple racing out the door wearing sunglasses and bedhead.” She yawns as I help her to her feet, sways and leans into me then shivers. The spring night carries a slight chill.

“Hold on,” I say and get her leaning against my chest as I slip my jacket off and drape it around her shoulders.

“Mmmmm, so warm,” she murmurs and grabs my shirt, basically burrowing up against me.

“Just how much champagne did you have?” I ask and she shrugs, sending the jacket sliding off her shoulders. I grab it and slide it back up.

“Just enough to make your mother pleasant.”

“I didn’t think there was that much champagne in the whole building.” Katniss giggles again and then stares up at me, a scowl on her face.

“I’m wearing your jacket.” She sounds annoyed.

“Yes. You were cold.”

“I wanted to take this tuxedo off of you tonight, husband.” She toys with a few buttons and slips one finger through the shirt flap to tease me. 

“You still can,” I promise.

“Okay,” she yawns again and I manage to guide her towards the lobby. 

I already checked us in earlier today, so we bypass the front desk and head straight for the elevator. She keeps petting my shirt and whispering to me about peeling off clothes with teeth and a couple other naughty ideas she’s had all day, which only adds to my nerves. 

In the elevator, she leans her full weight against me and tugs on my ears to bring me down closer to her.

“We can have sex whenever we want now,” she whispers. Her lips tickle my ear and a shiver runs down my spine.

“Wasn’t that what this afternoon under the apple tree was all about?” I whisper back.

_ Get your cock inside me, husband. _

Her words from earlier jump into my head. It’s not much in the way of foreplay, but damn was it effective. Just remembering it is effective.

“That was so  _ naughty _ , Mr. Everdeen-Mellark,” she teases. “I should spank you for that.”

I can’t resist kissing her neck and savoring the soft gasp she makes.

“But so worth it.” The bell chimes, announcing our arrival at the floor and I sweep her up into my arms. Katniss yelps and grabs at my shoulders. “Also, it was totally your idea. I’ll dole out your spankings later.”

She gasps and feigns innocence as I carry her down the hallway towards our room. Then her lips are on my neck, reciprocating the arousing caresses I gave her in the elevator. My mind starts swimming and my knees start to feel like jelly. My arms shake a little.

“Was there this much fabric on your dress earlier?” 

“Shut up about my dress. Cinna worked really hard on it and I actually look pretty in it.”

“You are always gorgeous, but Cinna’s dress lives up to your beauty.”

She scoffs and sucks on my ear. “You’re such a flatterer.”

Thank goodness for digital keys because otherwise, I’m not sure we would make it into the room.

“Here we are, Mrs. Everdeen-Mellark,” I say and she squirms out of my hold as the door clicks shut behind us.

“We need to figure out a way to shorten that. Also, I need to pee.” I laugh as she grabs handfuls of skirt and scurries through the room, my tuxedo jacket sliding off her onto the floor. She doesn’t give it a second glance or even bother to take a look at her surroundings. That works to my advantage, though. It gives me time to add the finishing touches, including putting my jacket back on in case she decides she does want to take it off instead of sleeping right away.

A few minutes, later, Katniss emerges, her face refreshed and her hands rubbing lotion into her skin. 

“This stuff smells amazing. Is it tacky to take the bottle with us?” She stops short and stares around the room. At the soft candlelight, the romantic music playing on my phone, the pink flower petals scattered over the bed and trailing onto the floor. 

“When did you do all this?” she asks and I lift one shoulder.

“Checked us in early today.”

“Peeta,” she breathes and suddenly her lips are on mine, soft and yet insistent. Her arms wind around my neck and hold us together. I return the embrace, unable to stop touching the soft chiffon of her dress, rubbing over her back, up to where the dress ends and I can feel the warmth of her skin.

“You like it?” I whisper and she puffs air against my lips.

“It’s terribly cliched but it’s you and I love it.” Her voice shifts then to a ridiculously dramatic tone. She drapes an arm over her eyes and drops into a faux swoon in my arms. “Romance me, Peeta.”

I chuckle and bring her right back up to hold close to my chest. Taking her hand in mine, I start swaying to the music. Still smiling, Katniss rests her head on my shoulder and leans into me. For a few blissful moments, the only sounds are the music, the swish of her skirt, and our breathing.

Eventually, though, she untangles her hand from mine and slides both her hands just beneath my jacket, inhales deeply and then feathers kisses along my jawline. Well I can’t have that, even if it does make my skin tingle and my heart thud. I’m supposed to be romancing her, after all.

I bend her into a dip, following her to kiss along the neckline of her dress. Barely touching her skin with my lips.

“Oh,” she releases the tremulous note and her fingers clench. I keep kissing her, watching the rise and fall of her chest accelerate with every kiss. Her hands clench and knead my shoulders, like she’s searching for something more solid to hold onto. I whisper about how radiant she is and how she stole my breath today in the church, afterwards in the garden, every time she twined our fingers together so that one of our wedding rings pressed into the other’s hand. How just the thought of spending the rest of our lives together still excites me beyond belief.

Slowly, I bring her back upright and slide my hands down her back, up again as I shower her neck with more kisses. When I lift my head, she’s biting her lip and breathing hard. She cracks one eye open and then yanks the jacket off my shoulders.

“Slow down, there,” I murmur as it hits the floor and she reaches for my bow tie. “I want to take hours loving you this time.”

Katniss makes a frustrated whimpering noise in her throat and her hands shake as she unties and tosses aside the bow tie while I kiss and nip my way across her bare shoulder. Back up to her lips as she starts on buttons.

“Aren’t you going to help?” she asks as I let go of her so she can remove my vest and shirt, too. She throws them over her shoulder. 

“Help with what? You’re doing pretty good here,” I tease and she scowls at me.

“I’m still completely clothed. You could help with this dress.”

“Hmmm, in a minute,” I say and lift her by her hips. She holds tight to my neck as I walk across the room and set her on the sofa. Then I manage to pry her arms from me only, I think, because I’m distracting her with kisses down her neck, to her chest, along the neckline of the dress. Down over fabric as she squirms to get comfortable.

I sit on the floor and adjust my leg, then lift her skirt with a wicked grin. She gathers the fabric in her hands, holding it pooled around her waist as I kiss over her legs, up to her hips.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding under all this fabric.” I tease the edges of lace, sliding my fingers over her mound, beneath the waistline to caress her hip bone, down and beneath the edges. “Already wet for me?”

“Oh god,” she moans and lets her head fall back on the couch as I kiss her over her panties. Her hips rock up into my face and I caress over her thighs, enjoying the trembling just beneath the skin. When I lift my head, she glares at me. “Don’t be such a tease. Get on with it.”

“So demanding. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

I hook my fingers on her panties and tug. She lifts her hips as I pull them down, lips following my fingers to her ankles. I take the chance to slide off the ballet flats she’s wearing. With the panties out of the way, I rest my hands on her knees and spread her wide. “Wanted to do this all day.”

I lean forward and inhale before taking her in my mouth, savoring her taste and her groan of relief. The short words she gasps out as I work her over with my tongue. Suck on her lips then lick up her arousal. She looks so decadent splayed open on the sofa, surrounded by billowing clouds of white chiffon. I smile at my own thoughts and keep tonguing her, ignoring the tightness in my groin in favor of enjoying the way she grasps at the insubstantial material of her skirt and then reaches behind her to hold onto the sofa cushions instead. Body arching, chest pushing up against the dress bodice, skin flushed, and desperate noises from her throat.

But the more she moves in response to my mouth on her, the more the skirt gets in the way. It’s frustrating both of us and she grabs the fabric again, shifting on the sofa and whining at me to make her come.

I glance up to meet her eyes, fixated on mine as my mouth remains occupied, filled with her taste and more of her flowing sweetly over my tongue.

A single curse word flies out of her mouth when I slide one finger inside her, and then her clit pulses under my tongue. Adding a second finger, I enjoy the clench of her walls before I curl them both, pressing hard and fast, catching the peak and blending it with something new. 

Her knees jerk up into the air, feet suspended as her body vibrates. Her feet flex and curl as she sings strained notes of release along with my name a few times, and I have to lick faster to catch her release before it reaches the dress beneath her.

I’m not sure how much cleaning this thing will cost, and while seeing her like this, drinking her orgasm while she’s still dressed in her wedding dress might be a fantasy worth the price to me, I don’t want to stress her out.

I’m still lapping at her and she’s still mumbling to herself, coming down off her high when there’s a knock on our door. We both freeze and stare at one another.

“Maybe if we’re silent, they’ll go away,” Katniss whispers, mortification in her eyes. 

“I think it’s a little late for that.” I stand back up and grab my white undershirt to put back on as there’s another knock on the door.

Once I’ve got a shirt on, I stand by the door so that I’ll block their view of Katniss and open it just a small amount, smiling at the woman glaring up at me.

“Hi,” I greet.

“You must be Peeta,” she says, thick with sarcasm.

“Um, yes. And you are?”

“Your neighbor who would like to get some sleep. Tell your girlfriend—“

“Wife!” Katniss corrects and the woman’s eyes widen. “I’m his wife!”

“Sorry.” I stupidly lift my left hand to show my ring. “We just got married today.”

“Huh,” the woman says but there’s a smile playing about her lips. Maybe we’ve lucked out.

“We’ll try to keep it quiet,” I promise.

“Thank you. I think they might have ear plugs at the desk too. May get a pair of those for myself,” she says and turns to go, her frown softened quite a bit. “I’d wish you a good night, but I don’t think you need the sentiment.”

“Oh my god,” Katniss groans after I’ve got the door shut and locked again. “How humiliating.”

“Not really,” I say with a shrug and help her off the couch.

“Easy for you to say. It’s not your sex noises she heard.”

“Nope. But the night isn’t over yet,” I murmur as I start kissing her shoulder again. 

“Get this damn dress off me now, Peeta.” I smile into her skin and move to stand behind her, glad that our brush with our neighbor doesn’t appear to have cooled her desire. Then I take as long as possible to undo each and every tiny button, letting my fingertips graze her bare skin each time, dropping soft kisses to her shoulders and neck, nibbling on her ear. Every ounce of energy I have focused on holding back, taking things slow, and making them as sensual as possible for her. It’s meant to build up her anticipation, but it’s having an effect on me as well. 

By the time I reach the last button, I’m rock hard and ready to go. But I take my time sliding my hands beneath the bodice to cup her breasts over the bra she’s wearing. I frown at all the boning and padding I feel. It’s not like anything she usually wears. Still, I push the dress down and it pools on the floor in a soft  _ swoosh _ .

“Finally,” Katniss says and steps out of it, kicking it aside as I stare at the contraption she’s wearing.

“Uh...what is--”

“Effie insisted. And if you love me at all, you’ll figure out how to get me out of it in less than thirty seconds because I cannot breathe right in this thing.”

A smidge of guilt over my thoughts this afternoon surfaces. My thoughts that her tits looked amazing. So good that at one point during the reception I was thinking about sliding my dick through her cleavage instead of listening to my great aunt Mabel talk about her bulldog. And also what we’ve done so far with her bound up in this thing. Meanwhile, she couldn’t breathe.

I tilt my head and smile when I realize they’re just like the hooks on her bra, only there’s about a hundred of them. I grab hold of both edges and pause.

“Suck in for a second.” She inhales sharply and I push my hands together, popping loose half a dozen of the hooks. The more I release, the easier it is and finally I throw the thing aside and she sighs in relief. With no barrier, I massage her breasts, just my palms on her skin. “Much better.”

“Oh. Yes,” she says as she leans back against me. Her hands fumble and fail to get my belt undone. With a huff, she turns to face me and pushes my hands out to the side, face creased as she tears at my pants until they’re undone and around my ankles along with my shorts. “Sit.”

I sit. She removes and throws my clothes off to the side.

“Okay. Continue with the romance,” she says with a satisfied smile directed at my groin. I feel myself lurch towards her and remind myself to go slow. Make this special. It is our wedding night, after all, and I plan on only having the one. This one, with her.

I stand up and sweep her back up into my arms. She laughs and nuzzles my neck as I carry her to the bed, murmuring that I intend to rock her world tonight. Make her see stars and feel rainbows. She giggles and plays with my hair. But I forgot about the shirt she threw earlier and my prosthetic foot catches and slips on the fabric.

I curse. Katniss yells. We both go down and I basically throw her onto the bed to free my hands to catch myself.

Thankfully, she’s laughing when I manage to right myself enough to check on her.

“Come here. Are you alright?” She asks through her laughter and reaches for my shoulders.

“I’m fine. Perfectly graceful and seductive as all grooms should be.” 

She laughs louder, pulling me down onto the bed with her. We work together to get my prosthesis off. The laughter slowly dissolves into kisses, melts into soft gasps. 

Maybe it’s my imagination, but the feel of her left hand caressing over me seems different. I swear I can feel her ring grazing me and fuck it turns me on a ridiculous amount. We lay there, kissing and touching, and while we’re long since familiar with each other’s desires and turn-ons, I can’t get over how incredible this feels. My head is spinning again when she shifts our positions so she’ll be on top.

“Yes,” I gasp as she straddles me with a smile. “Feels so good when you ride me.”

“Saddle up, Peeta,” she teases and I laugh. It doesn’t last long when she rocks her hips over me, her wet pussy lips spreading over my cock, covering me with her. I glance down and watch as she coats me, bite my lip as precum glistens for a moment before her movements mix it with her arousal.

I set my hands on her hips then look up at her and beg. Beg for her to make this waiting and wanting end. At least for the moment because I know I’ll never stop wanting her.

“That’s pretty,” she whispers. “Was that part of the vows you wrote?”

“No,” I say and shake my head.

She uses her knees to shift my hips on the bed and then I groan as she sinks onto me.

“Fuck, Katniss,” I moan, eyes squeezed shut as she starts to move. Stroking pleasure through my limbs. Words vanish from my head but something tickles at the cleft of my ass, distracting me a little. 

Katniss shifts my hips again and the tickling becomes worse. Unavoidable. I squirm to get away and Katniss protests.

“Sorry. Something is tickling me,” I complain and she shakes her head.

“What?”

“I can’t — just — “ we shift again and an undignified noise leaves my throat.

“Shhh! Peeta! That woman is going to some back to complain.”

“It tickles!” Katniss groans and tries to roll off me, but our limbs are tangled and the bed shudders. “Shit!”

One of the candles falls, spilling wax over the sheets. I manage to snatch it up before anything catches fire, but there’s wax all over the duvet.

“Well there goes my security deposit.”

Katniss laughs and takes the candle from me, setting it aside and grinding against me, making me forget the mess and our neighbor… but not the thing tickling my ass. I’m squirming horribly and Katniss finally stops altogether.

“Okay what the fuck, Peeta?”

“Ah! Ticklish!” I shout as she shoves her hands beneath me and comes back up with a handful of flower petals. She lifts one eyebrow at me and smiles. 

“See this is why we can’t do romance,” she says before tossing the petals over her shoulder. Then she grabs my shoulders and rolls to switch our positions.

But something goes wrong. She takes the duvet and half the sheets with us. Right off the bed.

I manage to break our fall, but now she’s laughing for real. Full belly laughs as petals cascade around us and I’m sure I hear a knocking on the wall from our neighbor.

“Quick! Make us both come before something else goes wrong!” She says between laughs. And alright, I’m laughing too because it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculously incredible how good it feels as I start thrusting and she wraps her legs around me, our bodies still shaking with laughter as we move. I can’t tell mirth from pleasure, laughter from moaning because damn it does something to the mind and body, laughing with Katniss as we meet each other’s thrusts.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” She gasps loudly as her nails dig into me.

“Come for me?” I ask, but before I can finish the words, her walls clamp down on me and her nails score lines of release into my arms, her body arching as she arches and keeps coming on me.

“Oh fuck, Peeta! Come inside me! Now! Please!” Her words trail off into strained whimpers as she tries to stay quiet.

I shift my hands on the floor and sink myself into her still fluttering walls. Over and over, euphoria building in my skull, in my lower back and hazing over awareness. Over and over and then slamming home as the feeling breaks free, racing to meet in my center as I pour my release into her with a groan I barely manage to muffle in her neck.

I collapse and lay there, holding my weight off her as best as possible as she caresses my shoulders, peppering them with soft kisses. Her feet rub up and down the backs of my legs and I shudder with the afterglow.

“Wow.”

“Wow,” she says. “I change my mind. Romance me any time you want...but maybe skip the petals.”

“And the candles next to the bed.” I chuckle and manage to lift my head to smile down at her. “I adore you, Katniss. You know I’d do anything for you.”

“I do.”

“But right now I think I better blow out these candles before we knock over anymore.”

“Good idea.”

It takes some doing getting up off the floor without face planting. My leg feels so weak, but I manage to get the candles extinguished while Katniss gets a towel soaked with hot water from the bathroom to see if she can get any of the wax off the duvet.

I’ve got my leg back on and am about to deal with the petals when a shrill beeping fills the room.

“Ah! What the hell!”

“Smoke detectors!”

“There wasn’t that much smoke!”

I snatch the towel from her grasp and clamber up onto one of the chairs, frantically waving it in front of the detector. It sound like it’s just inside our room, at least.

Thankfully, it works and the alarm stops. Katniss is giggling again and as I turn to scowl at her, she covers her mouth with one hand, pointing at my ass with the other.

“You have rose petals on your ass, Peeta.”

“Glad you find this funny. Our neighbor is really going to flip a lid after—“

_ REEEEE! REEEEE! _

We both clamp our hands over our ears as the alarm for the rest of the hotel goes off, the sound an unbearable screech.

“Did we do that?” She yells as we both scramble for something to wear. I shrug and take her hand as we stumble into the hall. It’s empty, probably because it took us so long to dress that everyone else has already gone outside. Katniss tries to hide in my chest as I hold one arm around her and we exit the building. I spot our neighbor and she shakes her head at me, an exasperated look on her face. Slippers on her feet and a robe wrapped tightly around her body.

I’m sure we look a mess — me wearing a hoodie, my tuxedo pants, and no shoes. Katniss has on her flats from the wedding, a pair of jeans, my tuxedo shirt and jacket. And now I’m regretting trying to be cute and romantic. It’s seriously backfired and I’m convinced that this is what Katniss will be remembering from tonight. I’m surprised she hasn’t lost it yet, and glance down at her face, partially hidden in my clothes. I try to tame her hair and she blushes as she stares at mine.

“We look like we were in the middle of having sex just now,” she whispers.

“Well,” I say pointedly and she buries her face in my chest once more, but she’s laughing as she mumbles something. “What?”

She lifts her head and stands on her toes to speak directly into my ear.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” she hisses. And alright, I’m turned on again as I hold her close, feeling a little better because she’s still hiding, but it’s laughter that she’s trying to conceal, her eyes bright with mirth and her lips contorted in a way that only happens when I’ve made her laugh but she’s trying to stay mad at me. I bend my head down to answer her.

“Guess what… we match.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone asks me why they both hyphenated their name, I may go feral mmmmkay? All other comments welcome. Love, kdnfb


	3. The Actual Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday where I am (barely) and I'm awake so I post. The shenanigans continue!

An hour of waiting.

I watch the clock hand tick past the five again and sigh. Peeta shifts in the seat beside me, jostling my ankle. I scowl at him and jerk back at the twinge of pain. That only makes it worse.

“Sorry. I’m just gonna…” he very carefully stands, shifting my foot and the ice pack under it. Then he stares at a nearby table for a few seconds before he stretches towards it, manages to grab hold of the edge. “Aha!”

He pulls it towards me and sets my foot up on the surface. He’s been very sweet, but he’s also gotten increasingly fidgety the longer we’ve sat here. My usually patient husband appears to be out today and it’s annoying me a little bit. 

We’re here because of an accident. It wasn’t my fault. I’m not trying to ruin our honeymoon or anything, so I don’t understand his impatience with me. I already feel bad enough. I don’t need him making it worse.

“Where are you going?” I ask as he takes one step away from me. He halts and turns back to me, sets his hands on the arms of my chair, and bends over to whisper in my ear.

“Pretty sure I got sunburned.”

“Peeta this is no time for jokes,” I mutter. I’m hot, sweaty, tired, dirty. I also look like I just had sex in the woods — because I did — pretty sure my ankle is twisted or maybe even broken and now Peeta thinks it’s a good idea to make a joke. It’s the first full day of our honeymoon and I’m not in the mood for jokes.

“I’m not joking.”

“You put on half a bottle of sunscreen. We didn’t even sleep that long!”

“I didn’t put any sunscreen on my—“

“Katniss Everdeen.” 

“Finally!” I say and raise my arms. Peeta hesitates for a second but lifts me and carries me towards the nurse.

“Right this way, Miss Everdeen,” she says with just a cursory glance at Peeta. That’s not helping. Since neither of us managed to file the official paperwork yet to legally change our names, I had to fill out the pile of clinic admission forms as Katniss Everdeen or risk an insurance nightmare. I’m wondering if this trip to the urgent care is going to necessitate waiting even longer to change my name legally once we get home.

“What brings you in today?” She asks when we reach the exam room.

“I tripped over a tree root while we were hiking.”

She types on her laptop and takes my vitals. Asks small talk questions about symptoms and where we’re from. She gives us a half hearted congratulations when I mention that we’re on our honeymoon. 

Meanwhile, Peeta keeps squirming oddly and looking really uncomfortable. Adjusting his pants and not sitting down. The nurse notices and stares at him until he stops.

“Poison ivy?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she says and eyes him. His cheeks and ears are turning bright pink.

“Why don’t you have them take a look while we’re here?” I suggest.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Peeta says. “Besides, we checked  _ you _ into the clinic, not me.”

The nurse shrugs and picks her laptop up off the counter. “Doctor will be with you shortly.”

It’s clear that Peeta’s not comfortable, though, so as soon as the nurse is gone, I motion for him to come closer.

“I didn’t know you were allergic to poison ivy. If I had, I wouldn’t have suggested--”

“I’m not allergic,” Peeta says and tries to push my hands away from his belt buckle.

“Peeta. Something is wrong. You haven’t been able to sit still since we got here. Let me look.”

He heaves a dramatic sigh and then turns his back to me, does the work on his pants himself.

“Sunburn,” he says again as he drops his pants and shorts a little, revealing bright red ass cheeks.

“Oh my gosh,” I cover my mouth with my hand to contain my laughter.

“How bad is it?”

“Uh, well...how worthwhile would you say the sex was today?”

Peeta groans and I press a finger to his skin. He’s blistering warm. Not good.

“We’ll make a pharmacy run after this and get some aloe vera or something. For now, we need to cool this off. Get some of those towels over there and douse them in cold water.” He whimpers as he moves, but does as I suggest. He’s got his pants half off, my hands holding cold, damp paper towels to his ass, when there’s a knock on the door and the doctor enters before we can even think to move.

“Alright Miss Everdeen…” She trails off and freezes as she gets a good look at us. “Is this a bad time?”

“No!” Peeta squeaks and bats my hands away from his ass, struggling to get his pants back on.

Thankfully, the doctor doesn’t belabor the incident but gets right to work examining my ankle. I have a harder time dismissing it, guilt rising up as Peeta does his best to hold still and not look like he’s in excruciating pain right now. 

How stupid we look. Our day started out nice. Hiking through the woods. Just me and him and mother nature. I felt at peace, so relaxed after the months of insanity leading up to our wedding, and an acute relief at getting to just be us again. When we found a lovely stream, I suggested a quick swim before we ate our lunch. We swam, we ate, swam some more...wound up kissing and well, it is our honeymoon. 

I hadn’t thought twice about making love in the open air, the sky reflected back at me in Peeta’s eyes as I came apart, taking him with me.

When I’d rolled off of him and he followed to hold me, his body half covering mine, I still didn’t think twice about it, content to curl up in his arms, warmed by his body and the sunshine. We’d both put on a decent amount of sunscreen, Peeta almost to excess, but that’s normal with his fair skin. So I didn’t worry when I woke up, refreshed, twenty minutes later.

Now I bite my lip in guilt. That’s what he was trying to tell me in the waiting room. He didn’t put any sunscreen on his ass because we didn’t swim naked. But we did sleep in the buff with his butt exposed to the sun…

“Does that hurt?” the doctor asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“No,” I tell her then hiss when something does hurt. After she’s examined me and I’ve answered all her questions, she delivers her verdict.

“You’ve sprained your ankle. No big deal. Just remember RICE. Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. I’ll write you a prescription for Motrin. That will help with the pain and swelling, and it should heal in a week or two. Do you want me to show you how to wrap it?”

“No I’ve had to do that before,” I tell her. Prim’s soccer injuries while Mom was working double shifts at the hospital right after Dad died.

“How long will you be here for your honeymoon?”

“Six more days,” Peeta says and the doctor nods. 

“Well, big guy, here’s your first test of in sickness and in health,” she says as she peels off her gloves and throws them away, rubs hand sanitizer in her hands. “Also, I recommend no more outdoor coitus while you’ve got that sunburn.”

“How did you…?”

“Honeymooners. You aren’t the first guy with crispy butt that I’ve seen in here,” she says as she slips through the door.

Peeta laughs a little and moves back towards me, wincing as he does. “It’s getting worse, so that’ll make the drive to the pharmacy fun.”

“Do you want to borrow my ice for the drive?” I offer as he lifts me back into his arms.

“No, I think I’ll be okay.”

His face is twisted in discomfort the whole drive and he insists that I stay in the car with my ice pack. He’s walking funny and now I really do feel awful. About fifteen minutes later, he’s back with two bags.

“Alright...prescription painkillers for you, over the counter for me, compression wraps, ice packs galore so we can rotate them and make sure my ass packs don’t get mixed up with your ankle packs--” I laugh a little at this.

“We’re married, Peeta. Your ass is going to wind up on all kinds of shared surfaces.” He squints at me and I cover my face with my hand. “That sounded better in my head.”

“Aloe vera, and I even managed to pick up a few snacks for us.”

“Sounds like we’re stocked for now.”

“Yep.” He drives us back to the hotel and carries me inside with our bags sitting in my lap, starts the bathtub filling and helps me undress. When the tub is full, he sets me gently in the cool water. I sigh and motion for him to join me.

“It’s nice and refreshing. Might help cool your hot ass.”

“Haha,” he pulls a face but strips and joins me.

It’s not so bad, I keep telling myself. We lounge in bed and watch movies or read. Peeta makes a few attempts at drawing, but they don’t turn out too well with him forced to lie prone on his belly. Instead, he turns it into a game, has me guess what his terrible drawings are and making me laugh until my sides hurt. In the mornings when it’s cooler, Peeta will carry me out to the porch and we’ll eat breakfast out there. Again in the evening to sip cool drinks as the sun sets. Really, he carries me everywhere, even though I can tell that all the bending and lifting isn’t exactly comfortable with his burned skin. Of course, it’s easier to deal with here, where neither of us are dealing with the pressures of work, family, or life in general. It’s just us. Still, I’m starting to go stir crazy. 

“Now this,” I say on our third full day of bed rest as he’s lying on his stomach and I’m massaging sticky aloe vera into his ass cheeks, “This is real love.”

“For better or worse,” he quips and I chuckle. 

Afterwards, he checks my ankle. “Swelling looks a lot better today. How’s the ice?”

“I could use a refresh,” I say as he sets to work wrapping my ankle back up. When he’s done, he hobbles over to the fridge and changes out my ice pack for a fresh one.

With his rear end burned, Peeta’s more comfortable naked, at least while we’re inside the cabin, and I take a moment to appreciate the man I married. I’m certainly not going to complain about him walking around in the buff. Especially not in moments like this when he’s being so sweet and gentle, taking care of me. His kindness has always gotten me hot and bothered. It’s what I fell in love with first. 

But while I’m all hot and bothered because I want to mount him, he’s hot and bothered in another way. After he’s got me set up with a fresh ice pack and anything else I might want within easy reach, he tries to get comfortable on his side so he can wrap an arm around me. It's apparent that isn’t going to work just yet and he finally lays out on his stomach.

I grimace at the bright pink splotches all over his ass. It’s starting to heal, at least, but it’s also got to be painful still. I poke at him and he turns his head, arms wrapped around his pillow, half his face hidden in the white linens as he lifts one eyebrow at me. Laughter in his blue eyes. At least he’s taking it well.

“It’s like leather,” I say and poke him again. 

He laughs, the sound shaking the whole bed. Then I change my mind and set aside my book in favor of curling up next to him. It takes some doing, getting us all arranged on the bed with our respective injuries and ice packs. But we finally manage and I am able to let go the annoyance of missing out on so many aspects of our honeymoon.

This is good. Wonderful, actually. I yawn and Peeta uses one arm to bring me closer, leaving his arm draped over my waist and his lips pressed to my ear. His steady breathing lulls me into a state of bliss. Sleeping next to Peeta always feels like such a luxury, no matter where we are or what state we’re in, I think, right before I slip into dreams.

Of course, when I wake with one side sweltering warm and sweating, the other cool, and none of me comfortable, it doesn’t feel much like a luxury. Not even with the fingers dancing over my bare thigh, up between my legs and close to my panties. I forewent the shorts earlier, opting for just a loose shirt and underwear for comfort. I shift a little, trying to stretch and adjust my injured ankle. I try to bat away his hand, annoyed at the weird mixture of uncomfortable and aroused that I’m feeling.

“Mmmph, Peeta,” I groan and he starts nibbling on my ear. I make another disgruntled noise and he stops altogether, resting his hand on my thigh. “Not comfortable.”

That makes him chuckle slightly and the next kiss he gives me is soft and loving, on my cheek. I open my eyes as he shifts beside me. Helps me reposition my ankle to make me more comfortable. He’s rolled onto his side so he must be feeling a little better. Glad that makes one of us.

“You know, most people don’t have this problem on their honeymoon,” he whispers.

“What problem?”

“Sprained ankles, urgent care visits.” I scrunch my nose up at him as his hand lifts to caress my cheek and my jawline. “Most people go chill on a beach somewhere, drinking Mai-tais rather than go stomping through the woods.”

“You still could have gotten sunburned on a beach.” He leans down to give me a languid kiss on the lips. An open invitation. Over in a couple heartbeats. My choice on whether we just relax like this or if we test our healing injuries. 

“True. And I never would have discovered how sexy checking each other for ticks could be,” he teases. I shift my hips, my body awakening further at the feel of him already hard and now pressed up to my hip.

“Shut up and help me keep my foot elevated, Peeta.”

“As my love demands.”

I have no idea what that means until his hand skims down my body and his lips return to mine, more urgent this time, although his touch on my breasts is still lazy, indulgent. He murmurs sweet words between kisses while his hand takes a circuitous route lower. One side of me sweltering with his warmth, one side cool with air, and the contrast along with his touch makes me dizzy. I grasp at his arm and then shift my arm to wrap around him and hold him close. Much more comfortable.

His hand finally reaches my leg and adjusts my position. Fluffs the pillow beneath my ankle.

“Better?” he asks.

“Getting there,” I whisper and nudge him with my knee, hoping he gets the hint and biting my lip to contain a moan as his hand caresses back up to my core.

“Wet for me already.”

“I mean...it is our honeymoon,” I say and he chuckles, the sound breathy and teasing on my neck. And we haven’t had sex since the day I sprained my ankle. I caress his shoulder, up into his hair to bring his lips back to mine. His tongue flicks over my lips as his hand slides beneath my panties. My hips strain towards him and I open my mouth, inviting him into me wherever he can reach me.

Fingers sliding through sticky folds, lips sliding and tongues caressing. Now all of me is warm and shivering with the heat. Then his fingers slide inside me and I don’t bother stifling my moans. They’re all released into his mouth anyways. I wonder if he likes tasting this form of my pleasure too. The way he seems to love tasting my arousal. I should ask him that.

The thought is niggling and intrusive until the feel of something more solid pressing into my clit intrudes.

“Oh -- oh fuck,” I gasp, my body bowing into the touch. Why is that so hot? Feeling his wedding ring snug up against my intimate skin. Knowing that it’s only mine to feel. Just like he is.

“You like that?” I can only squeak an answer through my teeth as he flutters his fingers inside me. But the panties I’m wearing restrict his movement, and even though he tells me he’s going to have me naked and begging, I still whimper in protest when he slides his fingers from me. “Patience,” he coos as the fabric slides across my skin in slow torture. “You’ll get what you want.”

“Will you?” I tease and he shakes his head.

“We’re married and you still don’t know? Satisfying you, satisfies me.”

Panties discarded, he tugs my shirt down and exposes one breast. A soft kiss to my lips and then his finger trailing circles around my areola. Tighter and tighter. 

I am hampered by my ankle. Forced to lay here and take it instead of throwing him on the bed and slamming myself to completion. But Peeta won’t let me. He seems content to take hours. Days. Years loving me. 

His fingers gather close together, pinching and pulling as need makes itself known. Then Peeta’s fingers fan out, spreading like a firework burst in the sky, lighting up my skin until his palm covers my entire breast. Then he kneads me in his hand.

“Oh god,” I moan and arch into that touch too because who knew feeling cool metal grazing my nipples would make me this desperate. I convince myself that part of it is his lips on my neck, the words he whispers about how much hotter than a sunburn I am, and infinitely more pleasurable. 

I laugh lightly at this, but then he’s sliding down my body, his mouth now spreading the bursts through every part of me. My breasts. My tummy. By the time he reaches my hips, I’m in constant motion and unending need.

He shifts on the bed, lifting my leg slightly and quirking an eyebrow at me. I’m wondering what exactly he has in mind when he settles on his stomach, hand sliding up and down my leg. He nuzzles my center and I inhale sharply.

Then I close my eyes and surrender control to him. A broad swipe of tongue. A gentle sprinkling of kisses. Soft words about cravings and need and I forget about my ankle and how he managed to wrap the ice pack to keep it in place. I lift it to rest my foot on Peeta’s back and he shivers.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s cold,” he says, but he doesn’t stop eating. In fact, he gently grasps my leg when I try to move it and holds it, supported on his back. “Just lay back and let me take care of you.”

I want to protest, uncertain about this, but his mouth on me refuses to be ignored. Time seems to stand still as he leisurely licks at me. Coaxing out soft whimpers and pleas, thrusts of my hips up into his mouth. Our hands dance across my skin. His tongue moves with increasing urgency and his moans on me make my eyes roll back in anticipation of the edge that he never quite pushes me over. My walls start to ache. To throb with need and I tug on his hair.

“Close. Peeta. Please let me come,” I beg.

“I’m not done tasting you.”

“Fuck I don’t care. I want your cock inside me when I come.” He pauses for a second. “You can...fuck, you can taste me all you want after you’ve made me come.”

“Can’t refuse that request,” he says and then slides back up my body. Peeta adjusts his knees and lifts my thighs. I’m squirming and clawing at his abs. “Hold your legs up a little. I don’t have enough hands for this.”

I do as he asks, supporting my own lifted thighs in my hands. Biting my lip as he drags his tip through my folds, still teasing me and taking his time. I want to scream and kick in protest, but I can’t. I’ll just hurt my ankle more if I do that and the smirk on his face tells me that he knows. The bastard knows and is taking advantage of my injury to make me go slow when I wanna go fast.

He dips inside me. “Yes,” I gasp and then he pulls back out with a grin. “Peeta!”

“Yes, Katniss?” I growl at him and he finally slides inside me, but even that he does excruciatingly slow, speaking as he goes. “I have a lifetime to make love to you, Wife. There will be times when we’re desperate, when we won’t bother to remove all our clothes or rip some in the process. Times when we need each other so badly we can’t wait another second. When it’ll be fast, hard, and raw.”

“Yes,” I groan and flex my hands on my thighs, lifting my hips to speed him up, but that only makes him retreat.

“But today, I’m going to draw this out as long as possible. I promised you always, and always isn’t fast or frantic. It’s slow and steady. Right now I want to show you just how long and slow I can go.”

He’s smiling as I whimper but I still long enough for him to enter me fully. Hips resting on mine, he leans forward and caresses my cheek, my neck.

“But don’t worry. At the end of it all, I promise to make you come.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and then moan as his lips join mine and let me taste just how desperate I am on his tongue. We lay there, joined together, sharing kisses. I can feel his cock throbbing inside me and take pleasure at least in the knowledge that he’s as desperate as me. Just more willing to hold back and draw this out. 

Finally, he shifts again, taking the weight of my own legs out of my hands. He pins the right to the bed, spreading me for him, and then lifts the left, up and up until it’s pressed between his chest and mine, with a slowly spreading smile on his face.

“Have to keep this elevated,” he says and I laugh.

He slides from me, almost leaving me completely before rocking back into me. Slow. Lingering. I dig my nails into his ribs and moan to the ceiling. Because as much as I want him to pound me into the bed, Peeta knows all the ways to please me, make me sing. 

And sing I do. Louder and more frantic as he strokes the notes from deep inside me. His hand caressing over my body -- hips, breasts, face, clit -- each one a new note as he orchestrates because I can’t move.

At one point, he pries my hand from his shoulder and guides it to myself. I keen as he starts me, touching myself, caught between his body and mine as he moves.

Words cease, but this isn’t a song that needs lyrics, not when we’re in tune like this. Anything we need to say exists in the sounds we release. In the kisses that intersperse with the notes, in the meeting of our bodies and the look in his eyes as he watches me, attentive and loving.

I’m not ready for it. Surprised when my body draws taught and euphoria takes over. I get lost in the beat as it rolls through me, clinging to him and vibrating beneath him. Then drinking the back half of his shout of release. Swallowing it and holding it deep inside me as he thrusts a few more times, sharp and punctuated with harsh exhales puffed across my cheeks. Each one setting off more flutterings inside me until I can’t. Can’t take anymore and give up trying to control what I feel.

When I finally sink from the heights into an afterglow, I go limp, and thankfully Peeta has the presence of mind to keep supporting my injured leg because otherwise we might be making another trip to the urgent care.

“I don’t think that’s what the doctor meant when she said to keep it elevated,” I say and Peeta laughs. I can feel it deep inside me, since we’re still joined and his smile as he kisses me tastes just as good as release.

“I love you,” he whispers and I whisper it back. 

I used to wonder at how often he says it. Until I really got to know his family and realized that no one had bothered to say it to him much growing up. I want to change that. Because he’s made me feel so loved, like the best version of myself, ever since I can’t even remember anymore. And I want to do the same for him. Burned ass and all.

“Now,” he says and leverages himself up, setting my ankle on it’s pillow again and smiling down at me. “We’re on our honeymoon, and you might be injured and I might have a case of lobster ass--” I burst out laughing at this “--but I am not going to let that stop us from fully enjoying ourselves. So if you’ll excuse me…”

He drops to the bed, making it bounce slightly as I laugh. And then I can’t laugh.

“Holy fuck!” I yell as he sucks on my still tender clit. Only the once before he lifts his head to smile at me.

“You know what the best part about this is, though, Wife?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to be quiet out here.”

It’s a good thing, too, because Peeta doesn’t relent and I am certainly not anywhere close to quiet. He only lifts his head to murmur to me that he wants my sounds. My release all over his face. Louder, deeper, he insists and then makes it impossible for me to do anything but give him what he wants.

I’m still floating in my afterglow when he finally pulls his fingers from me, licking his lips to clean me off of his face as best he can as he rises to his knees between my spread legs. I’ve barely moved from this spot, but I’m somehow disheveled and exhausted.

Peeta wraps his left hand around his cock and groans, his fingers still glistening with my juices. Spreading them over his length as he strokes himself. I catch flashes of his ring on his finger and bite my lip at how stupidly sentimental he makes me feel. 

I know that we promised ourselves to each other long before this, but there’s something about seeing that ring on his finger and the matching one on mine. We tied ourselves together long ago, but that ring announces it to the rest of the world.

“Gonna cum all over you, if that’s okay,” he whispers, his chest and abs spasming with his choppy breaths.

“No,” I breathe. “Inside me again.”

He groans but lays down beside me, shifting our bodies so that we’re almost spooning, my wrapped ankle suspended in his grasp.

“You’re gonna have to…” he trails off on a groan, his teeth sinking into my shoulder as I grip him, giving him a few strokes before positioning him, guiding him as he rolls his hips to enter me.

Apparently we’re done with slow and steady for now because he starts moving immediately. Draping my leg over his an arm to hold in it place but also to cradle my face in his hand as he kisses me. 

I would’ve thought my body was done, but something in how he’s stroking me lights some reserve of need within me. My hand stays where we’re joined, touching myself. He shudders and I break the kiss to ask him if he’s close.

“Not yet. Ice melting,” he says and I laugh as I glance up at my leg and see cold condensation from my ice pack dripping onto him.

“Fight through it,” I say and he groans. His next thrust jostles my hand out of place and I’m struck with an idea, shifting my hand so that even though his cock is leaving my body with each stroke, he’s thrusting through my hand. He’s going slow enough that just before he hits home, I can shift to fondle his balls then stroke his cock as he leaves. Sticky with me covering him, hard as steel, and hot as that sunburn on his ass.

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Katniss,” he groans and joins our lips again, feeding me his desperate moans as he moves. And something about the utter intimacy of it sends me reeling. I vibrate in his arms, walls squeezing tight as he slams into me and stays there. Clenching walls coaxing out his release, my hand cupping his sac so that I can feel the effect there along with him pulsing inside me and his satisfied moan caressing over my tongue.

We lay there, staring at one another and panting.

“I...” he starts and shakes his head, looking dazed and making me chuckle. 

“Speechless?” He nods, unable to say anything else. “Hmmm, then I’ll say it. Looks like a few injuries won’t stop us from honeymooning with style.” His lips spread in a smile and then I reach over to smack his hip.

But I miss my target and Peeta yelps in pain.

Lucky for me, I married someone with a decent sense of humor. After I help apply another layer of aloe vera and apologize for my poor aim -- “It’s your fault for ruining my senses,” I accuse-- he proceeds to find all sorts of creative ways to keep my foot elevated, with the added bonus of keeping me from going stir crazy.

And  _ that _ is how you honeymoon with style, I think as we lay in the dark much later with the soft sounds of crickets floating in through the open window and Peeta’s sleepy breaths coaxing me down into dreams with him.


	4. The Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual honeymoon might be over, but that doesn't mean the fun has to end...

We’ve got an hour. 

An hour before we’re expected to be at Katniss’ Aunt Effie’s for brunch. I glance at the meager food I have. A pair of bagels toasted and spread with cream cheese, some apple slices. I mainly stuck to staples only on my grocery store run late last night. But as much as I love her, no one in a social setting should be subjected to an empty stomached Katniss. So I tossed a few extras in my cart last night and am now trying to get a decent breakfast ready before waking her up. 

It was a long day yesterday, driving home from our honeymoon, starting the cycle of laundry, grocery shopping, moving me back into our apartment after our forced hiatus. I’m still pissed at my mother over that, but in this case it was honestly easier to give her what she wanted than to listen to her dramatics.

I pour some orange juice and start searching for the serving tray, hoping she won’t cause some kind of scene today. Both sides of the family in one room with no guests to force good behavior. The potential for drama is frightening. I know Effie’s trying to be nice and thoughtful, but I nearly had to restrain Katniss from throttling her when she suggested this little get together right after our honeymoon. There’s only so much socializing Katniss can stomach.

“Oh thank god,” Katniss says from the doorway to our kitchen and I give up my search for the serving tray. It’s pointless now. “You are amazing. I love you.”

She hobbles over to me, setting aside her crutches to hug me and cover my face in kisses. “Alright, alright,” I say with laughter in my voice. “I love you too, you human garbage disposal. Sit down and I’ll bring your breakfast.”

She doesn’t let go of me just yet, instead growing somber and holding my face in her hands. “I haven’t gotten sleep like that in over a month. You can’t move out like that ever again. Not even knowing it’s temporary. Got it?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay. I just want to make sure that if it turns out your mother believes in isolation before childbirth, we aren’t gonna be caving to that demand too.”

“Or I could... and then storm the place. Know where I can find an inexpensive white stallion and a suit of armor?” She laughs and kisses me one more time before turning to hobble on her crutches to the table. Her ankle is healing nicely. She’s able to walk on it a little bit, but uses the crutches more often than not.

“My hero,” she says teasingly as I set the plates on the table and then lower myself into my own chair. She lifts her injured left foot and sets it on my thigh then digs in to her meal. It isn’t much. We’re both still in our pajamas and sporting bed head, but it’s nice. Really nice to just sit in our home and enjoy a relaxed meal together, talking quietly. Knowing that this is where til death do us part really begins.

At some point, I start absently massaging her foot, focusing on the arch because that’s where she’s always most tense. But as much as I’d like to linger here in our kitchen, we can’t. There are still expectations outside of our marriage that we have to meet. We still have some unpacking and laundry to deal with, and tomorrow we’ll both be back at our jobs. Today, it’s family that we have to give our time and ourselves to.

“We better get going,” I say as I set her foot down and stand to clear the plates.

“Can we tell them we’re sick?” Katniss asks, scrunching up her nose at me. I load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and move back to her, bend over to kiss her.

“You’re adorable when you make that face at me, but no.”

“You’re still peeling. And look at me!” she protests, shaking her crutches at me.

“Everyone will feel very sorry for you and fawn all over you.” That only makes her scowl deepen and my smile widen.

Until she grabs hold of my pajama pants, and scooting her chair back slightly, pulls until I’m standing in front of her.

“What are you doing?” I ask as she pushes my shirt up my chest.

“We still have time. Hold this,” she mutters. I take my shirt hem from her hands almost on reflex, still not sure exactly what she’s doing until she grabs hold of my ass and pulls me close to nip at my stomach.

“We really don--” She yanks my pants and underwear down and tilts her head to suck on a patch of skin just above my cock. “Oh fuck.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Maybe…” I have to swallow before I can speak because she’s taken hold of me and strokes gently. Teasing me erect. “Maybe we do have a few minutes.”

Alright, so I can’t bring myself to turn Katniss down when she initiates likes this. Especially not if it involves her mouth on my dick. I’m only human and damn does it feel incredible when she does this. My eyes slide shut as she kisses my head and hums one note to let me know that was the right answer. 

She flattens her other palm on my chest and pushes, sending me back to sit on the table. Forcing my eyes open, I watch her tongue stroking up my length, swirling around my head, her nails scratching at my chest. She looks up at me, smoke in her gray eyes and then she bends over and I can’t hold back the blissful groan that leaves my throat as she slides me down hers.

I’m holding my shirt out of her way with one hand and her hair with the other, watching her suck me off at our kitchen table. She’s aggressive and determined this morning and I don’t stand a chance, encased in the warmth of her mouth. Her lips and tongue gripping and sliding, and the way she squeezes when she swallows. It’s almost embarrassing how fast she gets me right to the edge, my skull burning with holding back and my groin tightening as I tug frantically on her hair to get her off of me.

“Something wrong?” she asks as she wipes her mouth. I have no words, instead hauling her into my arms and turning to plant her ass on the table. That gives me time to reign in my body and let my brain function at least a little.

“Lose the bottoms now or I’ll rip them off,” I say and her eyes widen for just a second before she obeys. We tear off her pajama shorts and panties, tossing them carelessly across the room, and while she’s struggling with her tank top, I get my shirt off, kick aside my pants, and slide my fingers inside her. Her body bends on the table, arching into my touch, accepting one, two, three of my fingers into her warmth with soft flutters of adjustment. The curve of her torso thrusts her exposed breasts out. I take the chance to give one nipple a good hard suck that makes her gasp and wriggle more desperately to untangle herself from her shirt. Once she’s naked and looking in my eyes again, I make sure she knows what’s going to happen, moving my fingers in her to get her needy fast. “I’m gonna cum inside you.”

“Yes,” she says as she leans back on her hands, spreading her legs wider to make room for my hips.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, Peeta -- Oh!” She yells as I thrust inside her. I’ve still got my fingers inside her and it’s a strange feeling. Also really tight. So I slowly withdraw my hand, making us both shudder. I almost lose it as her walls close in on me. “Fuck.”

Her drawn out moan and the way she lifts her hips into me is intoxicating, and I know this isn’t going to be slow or gentle. I still take the time to suck her off my fingers, but that only makes me harder inside her.

“Fast, hard, and raw?” I ask and she nods. “Hold on to something.”

She wraps her legs around me, hooking her feet together over my ass, bringing her hands up one at a time to grab hold of my shoulders. I try to start slow. Really, I do, but it’s no use. It feels too fucking heavenly. I only last a few strokes before I lose all control and start pounding myself into her.

The table shudders with each of my thrusts, but the noises coming from her mouth are unimaginable and spur me on, faster until she’s screaming my name in broken syllables and clawing at my back. I get lost in the feel of her, hot and tight around me. Welcoming me deeper and beckoning towards rapture. My eyes roll back in my head and I only get a second or two to enjoy the bliss that courses through me right before I explode inside her.

“Don’t stop! Almost!” she whines when I slow a little. I’m still dizzy from my release, caught in the haze of ecstasy. She makes a frustrated noise and then must push herself up off the table. I stagger back a step or two then fall onto her chair. She wastes no time.

I’m just coming to my senses as she starts to thrust her hips over me. Hard, fast, and raw, almost punishing in the way she grinds against me. I blink and grab hold of her hips, cognizant enough to help her, at least.

“Yes. Fuck yes! Harder! Peeta,  _ harder _ !” The last word turns into a squeal as her motions lose their fluidity. Her pussy grips me again and again and fuck it all, it feels almost like I’m coming again with her. I watch her sway and her head loll as she moans and keeps moving until the last tremor passes through her.

Then she collapses on top of me, fingers still digging into my shoulders, hot breaths fanning over my neck in between murmurs. I wrap my arms around her and drop soft kisses over her skin while we catch our breaths. When she finally lifts her head and uses one hand to scrape her hair back out of her face, I smile at the utterly satisfied look on her face. Dazed eyes and flushed cheeks. Swollen lips and sinuous movements. I caress her cheek and cup my hand on the back of her head to bring our lips together. She makes a quiet noise as we kiss, slow and soft and raw. It’s one of those sounds of hers that I cherish because I know she’s not guarding her feelings in moments like these.

“I’ll say this for you, Katniss. You don’t play around when you’re trying to avoid being social.”

Luckily, that draws a smile and small laugh from her rather than a scowl. But then she sighs and her hand flops back onto my shoulder.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes. Effie planned this just for us. Everyone is expecting us to be there with smiles on our faces.”

“Where have I heard  _ that _ before?”

“And,” I draw out the word to cut off her complaints. “She texted me this morning to say that Octavia sent her the links we need to look at our pictures.” Katniss gasps and sits straighter. “And that she’s asked everyone to bring any pictures they took so we can have our pick of those as well.”

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” Katniss asks indignantly.

“Honestly? Because you had your mouth on my cock before I got the chance.”

“You couldn’t have told me during breakfast?”

“I was saving it to get you in the shower and out the door after breakfast.”

She squints at me but then twines her arms around my neck. “Alright then. Since I don’t know where to find an inexpensive white stallion on such short notice, you’ll have to do. Take me to the shower, noble steed.”

I nip at her neck, earning a loud sound of protest, but I stand with her in my arms and carry her to the shower. While we move as fast as possible to make ourselves presentable, we’re still late pulling up in front of Effie’s monstrosity of a house.

“My darlings!” Effie gushes as soon as she opens the door, before we even have a chance to ring the bell. “Look at you! Both of you glowing with honeymoon happiness! You’re positively radiant!”

She hugs me and then kisses Katniss on both cheeks, having learned long ago that Katniss won’t allow full body contact like a hug except from certain people. Also, the crutches get in the way.

“But oh you poor dear! I hope your injury didn’t put a damper on your trip.”

“Not really,” Katniss says and smiles at me. “Peeta took good care of me.”

“We took good care of each other,” I say and Effie almost starts blubbering on the porch.

“Knock it off, would you? You were supposed to cry at the wedding,” Haymitch says as he joins us. “Huh. There is a bit of glow about you--”

“Never mind that, Haymitch. Come inside my dears. I’m afraid we already started looking at the pictures. I did say nine o’clock!”

Katniss rolls her eyes and makes a face behind Effie’s back. Haymitch snorts and Effie glares back at him. 

“Now, Ryen managed to figure out how to set this up as a slideshow with both the professional photos and the candid ones family took,” Effie tells us and then shouts to her gathered guests in the massive living room. My parents, Katniss’ mother, all of our siblings and my sister in law with kids in a bunch around her. Haymitch, Effie. “Look who finally made it!”

We’re greeted and hugged, passed around the room. Thankfully, it appears that there’s not been any bloodshed or unnecessary awkwardness. Even my mother seems to be in a somewhat cheerful mood. Katniss, however, mutters under her breath that she’s going to need food as soon as the madness dies down. We only manage a few quick glances at the slideshow running on the giant flatscreen over the fireplace. In the kitchen, I load up a plate for Katniss and then help her get settled on the sofa.

“Here, darling,” Effie hands me a pad of paper and a pencil. “There are numbers in the corner of the screen, so just jot down the ones you like. We can sort out where they came from and where they’re going -- album or print -- later on.”

“Thanks, Effie,” I say and she totters off on her heels. With a sigh, I settle in next to Katniss and dutifully write down the numbers every time she nudges her elbow into me. She’s too busy eating to speak to me. The rest of our family seems pretty taken with the pictures, and I can’t blame them. I add a few that I like but that Katniss doesn’t nudge me over. Mostly shots of just her. At one point, she nudges me thrice over one picture. I guess she really likes it, but I give her an exasperated look. She shoves a piece of toast smeared with goat cheese into my mouth. It’s too large to fit and she smirks at me as I hold it in my teeth.

“Oh! My favorite is coming up!” Prim squeals. “Can you pause it this time, Ryen? So Katniss and Peeta can get a good look at it?”

“Sure,” my brother says and picks up a remote, aiming it at the TV.

“I still can’t believe you managed to capture this beauty, Effie,” Prim gushes. I grab hold of my toast and break it in two with my teeth, chewing as Effie answers her.

“Oh darling, I was simply in the right place, at the right time. The best pictures are always of the unguarded moments.” She winks and I swallow my food just in time for the the picture on screen to fade out and the new one to fade in.

“Pause!” Prim shouts and then sighs dramatically while Katniss nearly chokes beside me. I rub her back and wait for the spasms to pass as everyone else becomes very worried about her and how red her face is turning. 

I can’t deny that it is a gorgeous picture, but I still make excuses and carry Katniss into the kitchen, to get a glass of water for her. In the doorway, I sneak one last look at the picture.

“Don’t,” she manages between coughs.

“But--”

“No. Peeta, we can’t let any of them get prints of that! Can you imagine walking into my mother’s house and seeing that on the wall?”

“I mean... it’d be sweet justice to see it on  _ my  _ parents’ walls,” I point out and she pauses but then shakes her head. I manage to convince her to take a few sips of water, but that’s all I can get before she smacks the glass down on the counter.

“Help me to the doorway. I need to see it again.” I carry her to the doorway and we peer around the corner at the larger than life picture of us still on the screen.

Underneath an apple tree in bloom, petals floating on the air and gathered on the ground. Sunlight filtered through branches, divided into soft shafts. And us on a backless stone bench, Katniss sitting on my lap, her fingers in my hair, my arms around her, and our foreheads resting together. Her dress a curtain of white covering both of us from waist to ground.

Katniss makes a quiet shrieking noise as Prim tells Effie she wants that in an eight by ten at least. I carry her back towards the counter with all the food on it and set her on her feet. She uses the counter for support.

“Peeta,” she hisses. “My baby sister  _ cannot _ have that picture!”

“To be fair...you can’t tell. We were already done,” I say and she makes another screeching noise in her throat. “How exactly do you want me to explain to our entire family that they can’t have prints of it? Because I’m pretty sure you don’t want me telling them the truth.”

“This cannot be happening.”

“No one knows,” I remind her. “They think it was just a touching moment we shared.”

“Touching moment? Your dick is still inside me in that picture!”

There’s a disgruntled noise behind us and we turn around to see Haymitch hightailing it out of the kitchen.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” he says before disappearing. Katniss groans again and buries her face in my shirt.


	5. The Fade...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We rejoin our married couple several years down the road to see if things are still... interesting.

“One hour. No more.” I flip the visor up to fix Peeta with a stern look so he knows I mean it. “That is my absolute maximum, and it’s more than generous.”

“Agreed.”

He agreed too easily, given that this is supposed to be an engagement party for his brother, and I squint at him, hoping to detect what he’s keeping from me. He stays silent as a stone, so now I  _ know _ there’s something he’s not telling me.

“Just how awkward is this going to be?”

“Well,” he draws the word out and lifts one hand from the steering wheel to rub it over the back of his neck. I groan and flop back into my seat. “Dad will be there with Sloane.”

“Peeta,” I whine and he reaches over to give my thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Is your mother insane or just a masochist?”

“I don’t know, okay.”

I cross my arms petulantly and slouch, not caring if I wrinkle my dress.

“She hates me. She always looks at me the way you’d expect someone to look at a diaper pail that hasn’t been emptied in three weeks.”

“Which one?”

“They both do!”

“Last time you saw my mother, you basically told her when and where I lost my virginity.”

“I got tired of her suggesting that I somehow corrupted you! We’ve been married for three years! Lived together for two years before that. Were together for three years before  _ that _ ! And holy shit! We’ve had sex?! No way! Also it’s her fault. She moved that damn picture from our wedding into the entry hallway. Everyone who enters the house sees it now! You know how it makes me lose my head!”

“First of all, we were still in college when—“

“Consenting adults!” I argue. “We were both fully and eagerly consenting adults. And where is her indignation over the fact that I was a virgin too?”

He laughs a little at this. I’m glad he can find it funny. Because right now, I’m just pissed.

“And the last time you saw Sloane—“ I groan even louder and he keeps speaking over me. “You insisted on mispronouncing her name.”

“Slo-Anne? Pfffft. Please. That name is one syllable and she should be happy with that,” I scoff and Peeta bites his lip. I know he’s trying to be polite but just once, I want him to stop being nice and say what he really thinks in front of his family. They’re a real piece of work and need to be called out more often. Really just his parents do. His brother’s are wonderful. Which is a bit of a miracle in my mind. “She makes everyone uncomfortable with the weird name and the weird attempts at handing out motherly advice to you and me and your brothers and their partners.”

Not to mention the way she always acts confused over the blended last name Peeta and I chose. I still use Everdeen professionally. I had already built too many credentials, had my last name on too many studies and reports to change it. Peeta understood my reasoning, even if Slo-Anne couldn’t. Ugh. But then we decided the hyphenated Everdeen-Mellark was too much of a mouthful, plus what about our kids? What would they do if they got married one day? Rather than push the name etiquette quandary off on them, we chose to go with a blended legal last name that our children will carry. Everlark. Even traditions harping Mrs. Mellark the First understood  _ that _ decision. But it was apparently too difficult for Sloane to comprehend.

“She’s trying to act the way she thinks a step-mom should,” Peeta makes a sad attempt at defending her.

“Peeta. They’ve been married a whopping eight months. She’s only a year older than you. Don’t you find that a little…” Peeta sighs and kneads the steering wheel. “Icky?”

“Yes. Alright. We all find it horribly awkward but we’re also all adults who no longer rely on Dad to raise or provide for us. We’re trying to be mature about it. And my parents didn’t exactly have the best marriage so we’re also trying to be happy that he’s at least happy.” This makes me snort. Mr. Mellark seems happy alright. “And let’s be real. Ryen and Thom will have it far worse than you and me with the advice and prying questions. She’s willfully incapable of understanding where they’re concerned.”

I still have a lot to say about this, but keep my comments to myself because Peeta gives me a look that tells me something about this conversation is bothering him. I shouldn’t be so harsh on him. The past two years, with Mr. Mellark’s multiple affairs coming to light, the divorce, and Peeta’s dad getting remarried really did a number on the Mellark family. My whining is not helpful.

“Hey,” I say and sit up, lean towards him to brush a few strands of hair off his forehead. “What’s really bothering you?”

He sighs again but then tells me. “What if I’m not cut out to be a parent?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Seriously. Look at my parents. What if I suck at it because I never had a great example. What if shitty parenting runs in the genes?”

“You don’t believe that. How do explain Graham then? He might be a little stuck up and bossy at times, but he’s a great father.”

“Their kids are pretty awesome,” Peeta concedes.

“And ours will be too, as long as they’ve got you. You have so much to offer as a parent. You’re kind and giving and patient.”

“It’s different when they’re your nieces and nephews.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know you’re going to be an amazing father. We wouldn’t be trying if I didn’t.”

If either of us should be a parent, it’s Peeta. He takes my hand in his and presses it to his lips. For some reason, the gesture stirs butterflies and sadness. Longing and joy. My father used to do that to my mother all the time. And now Peeta does it to me all the time.

“And you’re going to be an amazing mother. At least one of us has good parenting genes in her blood,” Peeta says with a smile and I scoff, the sound half hearted.

“Yeah, if you forget the depression and incurable grief.”

“But it wasn’t incurable. She got help. She got better.”

“I know, I know,” I try to wave it off. “I guess I just...I wish Dad could be here if we...you know.”

“Me too,” Peeta says with a sad smile and lets go of me to focus on driving. “Almost there.”

I close my eyes and bite my lip to hold back the tears. Not just because I truly wish my dad were still with with us, but also because I didn’t tell Peeta about the pregnancy test I took this morning. The one that came back negative again. I console myself with the fact that it’s only been a few months since we started trying. But Peeta wants a baby so badly. I lift my head and smile at his profile.

So do I. It took me awhile to come to terms with my own desires, but now I know. I want to be a mom.

When we reach his mother’s house, he parks and then takes my hand in his as we head up the walkway. Just before we reach the porch, I stop and tug him back to me. Lifting on my toes, I press my lips to his, wind my fingers through his hair.

“I love you, Peeta. I just want you to know that before we go in there.”

“Still madly in love?” he whispers and I nod. 

“Always.”

“Always.”

With our nerves fortified, Peeta rings the bell.

“There you are!” Sloane shouts.

“Sloane. I said that I would answer. I am the hostess tonight and it is still my house,” Helen Mellark says and elbows her way past Mr. Mellark’s thirty-two years younger than him second wife. Then Helen wraps me into a hug that completely throws me off. “So glad you could make it this evening, Katniss.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Peeta says.

“We have to celebrate the occasion. I mean the first marriage is the most important,” I blurt out as his mother steps back from me. Sloane’s face turns bright red and I think I see a small twitch in Mrs. Mellark’s lips. It looks suspiciously like a smile.

Then it occurs to me what kind of strength it must take to invite your ex-husband, and his mid-life crisis wife with whom he had an affair, into your home to celebrate your son’s engagement all while smiling, playing the gracious hostess, and pretending it doesn’t bother you, all for the sake of your children. Especially when the second wife happens to be the same age as those children. 

And my vocal disapproval of Sloane may have made me an automatic, unwitting ally of Peeta’s mother.

“Peeta! Katniss! Man it’s good to see you!” Ryen says, bringing a slightly desperate looking man along in his wake. “You all remember Thom!”

“So happy to see you again, Thom. Congratulations!” I say and throw my arms around his neck in what is probably too much of a hug, but I’ll blame Helen for throwing me off balance tonight. “I know where they stash the bourbon. Find me if you need it.”

When I step back, he’s smiling at me and seems a little more relaxed as he shakes hands with Peeta. The house slowly fills with guests and I somehow wind up near the buffet with Thom. We talk food and he doesn’t look nearly as much like prey caught in crosshairs as he did when we first walked in.

“It’s just I never would have thought two men would want an engagement party!” I roll my eyes at Sloane’s voice over the crowd.

“Yeah. That’s because thinking would require brain cells,” Thom says and I snort. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“No. Trust me, you should. Let it out whenever you can. And around me, you can.”

But our sanctuary by the food isn’t perfectly secure and eventually, Sloane subjects us to her presence and attempts at advice. 

How to keep the romance alive and a marriage healthy. Ugh. Like she knows anything about that. I ignore her and eat, halfway searching the room to see if I can find Peeta and beg him with my best puppy dog eyes to either leave early or for him to come save us from this.

“And of course it’s normal for the shiny veneer to wear off eventually,” Sloane’s words finally catch my attention. “Look at Katniss and Peeta. They’re clearly past the honeymoon stage.”

“Pardon?” I say and she pats me on the arm.

“It’s normal dear. The passions eventually fade if you don’t attend to them. The kind of undying love you two seemed to express in that wedding picture out in the hall is lovely but unsustainable unless you make it so. You need something more solid to base a marriage on. Like the three I’s—“

“You mean ignorance, infidelity, and implants?”

Thom snorts and starts choking on his food as Sloane looks down her nose at me.

“Imagination, emotion, and intimacy.” She hisses and then stomps off. 

“One of those starts with E!” I trill and make a very mature face at her just as Ryen reappears.

“You’ve been hiding,” he says to Thom.

“I’ve been taste testing. Your Mom said this is one of the caterer’s we should consider.”

“The deviled eggs are a must have but the braised lamb and mint bites...a liiiiiiittle overdone,” I tell Ryen. “We’ve also been working on our techniques for verbal jousting with in-laws.”

“I need to remember some of her tricks for when we see my family next week.”

“Oh! Will there be food?” I ask and Ryen is laughing, shaking his head as he drags Thom into the heart of the party.

“Call me,” Thom says, holding his hand up to his ear. “I’ll have Ryen send you my number!”

“Are you stealing my brother’s fiancé?”

I jump as Peeta slides his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. 

“Making allies,” I explain and he hums.

He smells so good and feels like home wrapped around me, swaying slightly. Warmth sparks in my chest and sweeps through me, settling low inside me. We haven’t faded, I tell myself. The thought is intrusive, no doubt planted there by Sloane the bimbo, but it presents itself in the ugly light of doubt. Maybe we’re not the same newlyweds who had sex in a public garden twenty minutes after saying their vows, or the couple with a sunburned butt and sprained ankle finding creative ways to elevate. But I like where we are. How our intimacy has grown over the years and isn’t predicated solely on sex.

That doesn’t cool the heat building inside me, though. If anything, it makes it stronger. I’m not sure if it’s the stress, the desire to escape, the mention of our infamous wedding picture that his mother still has hanging in this house, or just him, but I am suddenly aroused.

Almost painfully so.

I set my plate down and thread my fingers through Peeta’s hair, turn my head to whisper to him.

“I want to escape.”

He pauses and his thumb traces lazily over my arm.

“Escape how?”

“Find us a quiet corner and fuck me, Peeta. Now.”

“Such romance,” he whispers sarcastically. But he squeezes my hand and whispers in my ear. “Go upstairs to my old room and wait in there. I’ll be right up.”

He releases me and I slink up the stairs, away from the party noises and down the hall to Peeta’s boyhood room. His mother still hasn’t done anything with it, almost like she half expects for things to go wrong between Peeta and I. And of course, she’ll be waiting with open arms and a place for him to stay. Or maybe having her husband betray her and leave her the way he did made it difficult to let go of her children too. 

Whatever it is, this is where Peeta would have stayed during that month long, forced hiatus his mother talked us into leading up to our wedding. I take a moment to look around, since I’ve not been in here recently. Smile at the dusty wrestling trophies and stacks of forgotten sketchbooks on the shelf, relics of his life before we met. He should go through this stuff and bring some of it to our house. I absently open a drawer and find a few old shirts, fingering the soft fabric and thinking back on those early years after I met him.

The door opens and Peeta slips in. I shut the drawer and cross the room to him in two strides. Our mouths smash together as we kiss and our breaths come hot and fast. He caresses over my body and moans into my mouth, holds my jaw cradled in his hands and pauses in his kisses.

“We have to be fast and quiet,” he whispers.

“I want you. I need you,” I say as I shimmy out of my panties and stuff them in his pants pocket. He kisses me once more and spins me to face the door. I reach down and lock it as he undoes his belt. The sounds of the buckle clanking and leather sliding against metal, the grinding of zipper teeth only make me wetter.

“Lift your skirt up,” he whispers and shifts my hair over my shoulder so he can kiss the back of my neck, nibble on my ear as I obey and bend over slightly. Then his hands are on my ass, caressing and kneading flesh, his cock sliding against the cleft. I whimper at the touch of warm skin and push back into him.

“It’s not fair how fast you can get me hard. God that sexy little whimper just now? Makes me dizzy. You know how many times I sat in that bed over there and jerked off thinking of you? Every damn time I came home from school—“

“Peeta,” I moan. “Stop talking and just…”

I trail off as his hands push me forward even more, my hands braced on the door as his fingers trace over my folds, spread them and dip inside for a few gentle passes.

“Oh fuck, Katniss. You really want it, don’t you?” Before I can answer, he shifts and teases me with the tip of his cock. I squirm and bite my lip, desperate to have him inside me. “Shh, shhhh. We have to be quiet.”

But then he joins our bodies together at such an agonizing pace I want to scream with combined frustration and pleasure. His fingers clench on my hips as he pauses, buried completely inside me, and murmurs to me.

“You feel so...so fucking amazing, Katniss. I need to taste you.” Soft sucking noises and deep moans reach my ear as he cleans me off his fingers. They’re still wet with his saliva when he traces my ear, tucking back loose hair. “You taste as good as you feel, know that? Fuck I wanna just pound into you and cum deep inside you,” he whispers. His lips and the air he breathes out with each word tickle my ear. I can feel his cock twitch inside me, proof of the truth in his words. I arch into him, my fingers clawing at the door.

“Move, Peeta. Please. I need you to move.”

“Tell me. Tell me why you want me to move.” His splayed hand caresses down my chest, then up beneath my skirt. One finger draws lazy circles on my clit with barely noticeable pressure. 

“Oh fuck,” I whisper and try to push off him, to jump start him thrusting, but his grip on my hip forbids it. I can feel him throbbing inside me and it’s making me mad with need.

“Say it, Katniss. Tell me what you want and why,” he whispers, still teasing my clit and the edges of my labia with one finger.

“I want your cock.”

“You’ve got it.” He rocks slightly, teasing me and I groan, let my head hang forward as my walls cling to him. “How’s it feel inside you?”

“So good. My … oh fuck I feel so full. Please fuck me, Peeta? I need it. Need you to fill me.”

“Like this?” He whispers and kisses my neck as he slowly withdraws from me and then slides back in. You can’t call this thrusting or pounding or even fucking. Unless it’s to call it a fucking agonizing tease.

“Harder.”

“Harder means louder,” he says. Hot words exhaled over my skin raising goose flesh born of desire and frissons of heat. “And we can’t be loud. There’s so many people downstairs. But I can fuck you slow and still make you come fast.”

I groan and then his hand covers my mouth while his hips dance with mine. Each slow, steady stroke of his cock inside me makes me even more desperate, but he’s right. Faster means louder, and as I hear footsteps outside the door, I bite down on his hand and squeeze my eyes shut tight, hoping whoever it is isn’t looking for us. 

“Shh,” Peeta hushes me. “We don’t want them to hear, do we? Just wanna fuck behind this door. Make you come first, then I’ll come inside you. Our secret, Katniss. You gonna walk around the rest of the night with my cum inside you?”

I don’t know what else to do but nod. I can smell and taste myself on his skin, an added stimulus to the soft stroking inside me. He’s still whispering right in my ear, the hand not covering my mouth covering my body with heated touches. On top of my dress, but the warmth still seeping through the fabric to my skin. Down to my hips and thighs. A few teasing circles over my clit. His chest pressed tight to my back. And his cock. Moving slow and smooth and sure in and out of me, somehow pushing me higher and closer to the brink even at this torturous pace. His whispers and the noises of our coupling bodies are the only sounds in the room.

“I love it when you get this wet for me, Katniss. So wet I can hear my cock in you. That gets me so fucking hard. Can you feel how hard I am for you?” I whimper and nod as he keeps moving. Maintains the pace. The footsteps in the hallway fade and he groans softly in my ear. “We’re gonna try a little faster. I need to — fuck I need to come — to unload inside you — oh fuck.”

His hips keep the new, steady rhythm but his voice loses track of his words as he starts moaning and sucking on my neck. I can’t remind him to be quiet with his fingers hooked in my mouth and I’m not sure I want to. I’m dangling on a precipice, so close to coming apart.

“Katniss. I can’t last much longer. Can't be quiet. I need—“ I reach back with one hand, remove my panties from his pocket, and shove them in his open mouth. He groans around the lace and I grab hold of the back of his head, yank him down so his face is buried in my neck and push my hips back against his. He gets the message.

Soft squeaks puff against my neck, tickling and taunting as his cock strokes deep. I bend my head back and suck on his fingers, in time with the frantic swipes against my clit. My hand in his hair yanks and twists with each burst of need I feel. The sounds — oh god the desperate hushed sounds we make in the dark as we push each other closer to the edge and then tumble over together. My legs contort and my body twists. His arms hold me close as ecstasy sets fire to the room around us. The pulsing of his cock inside me and his desperate grunts. Three hard, shallow thrusts and then he’s done. Holds still inside me, holds me in his arms as I quake with the last fingers of bliss trailing down my limbs. His nose nuzzling my ear and the lace trailing from his mouth caressing over my neck and shoulder. 

We stand there, my hand still twisted in his hair, his fingers in my mouth, both of us panting through our noses. There’s laughter in the hallway and then hushed voices.

I can’t make out what they’re saying and I honestly don’t care. I’d rather just stand here in Peeta’s arms with his dick still inside me and his cum meandering down my thigh. His lace filled mouth pressed to my neck as we wait for them to pass and our heart rates to slow down.

The door shudders as someone runs into it and I flush to the roots of my hair as I hear erotic moans and the unmistakable smack of kissing.

“Not here, Sloane. That’s Peeta’s old room.”

“Then where? Baby, you’ve barely touched me in a month. We gotta keep the fire hot.”

Peeta’s hand spreads over my mouth again and my breathing actually gets louder.

“Just not here. Not tonight.”

They move on then, and I don’t hear the rest of what they say. There’s a ringing in my ears and Peeta breathes out a relieved sound and loosens his hold on me. He pulls my panties from his mouth and presses his lips to my ear.

“I can taste you on these. You almost made me blow my load when you shoved these in my mouth. So fucking hot.”

“Recognize them?” I whisper and he holds them up to examine them in the faint light from the moon through the blinds.

“Damn,” he breathes as I step out of his hold and turn to face him. “You wore these on our wedding day.”

I stand on my toes and rest my hands on his chest, bring my lips to his ear. “I did.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Then he finds a tissue to help me clean up, bends over and holds the panties for me, helps me put them back on. I gasp as the fabric rubs against my skin.

“Something wrong?” Peeta asks as he stands up and grins at me.

“They’re wet!”

“You shoved them in my mouth,” he says and I try to argue but can’t as he leans forward and kisses me. “And the best part is… they were already like that when you shoved them in my mouth. So you won’t be able to tell if that’s from my tongue or your pussy. So for the rest of the night, you’re gonna be thinking about me eating you out.”

“Well I am now,” I say as he opens the door and checks the hall. Then he pushes me through and follows, taking my hand in his.

I do my best not to squirm in my wet panties, but it’s not easy as we rejoin the party. My family has now shown up, congratulating the happy couple with wide smiles and wrapped gifts. Their enthusiasm for Peeta’s brother’s happiness warms my heart. 

Sloane keeps looking at me oddly, tilting her head and opening her mouth to say something, then shutting it. It’s finally Ryen who stops by, clapping both Peeta and I on the back and leaning in to say.

“Your hair’s a little messed up, Peeta. And Katniss, your neck is all kinds of red.”

“Looks like someone’s still got a Case of the Honeymoons,” Haymitch jokes as he lifts his glass at me and my face burns for a second or two. Sloane glares at me with pursed lips and Mr Mellark looks highly uncomfortable. Then I manage to shrug it off. 

“I guess we just know how to keep the fires burning.” Several of them laugh at this and Peeta squeezes my hand.

Hopefully in a few months, we’ll have joyous news to share, and no one will care about this latest escapade. So I lace my fingers with Peeta’s and count down the minutes until I can drag him home.


	6. The Benefits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for jealous Peeta and this is what you all get. Minimal angst. Maximum smut. You did read the story description, right? ;)

Seven years. It’s been seven years since I’ve held a full time job.

“Thank you for your time,” I say and then hang up, tossing my phone on the counter. And it doesn’t look like that’ll be changing today. The interview I thought I’d done well in two days ago has yielded no results.

I deal with the mess Willow made of her breakfast. It’s already turned solid and crusty in some spots, but between dinosaur attacks, Cheerio booby traps in the living room, and one missing hamster, my morning’s been booked. I’ve just got the mess cleaned up and am about to go check on the kids when my phone rings. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Katniss says. “Any luck?”

“Nope. They had someone more qualified apply.”

“That’s such bullshit,” she says. “Gah! I was so sure you’d get this one.”

“It’s fine,” I reassure her. “Next time I’ll add Rodent Hunter to my resume then they won’t be able to turn me away.” She chuckles at this and then turns serious.

“Wait. Did Pringles escape again?”

“Yep. Found him behind the laundry hamper this time.”

“Get a picture?”

“A few,” I tell her.

“Send them to me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you at work.”

“You won’t be. It’s been insane here. I need a few smiles, and nothing makes me smile like our babies on a hamster hunt.”

“Alright,” I say with a laugh.

“I’ll bet you could get a few panels out of it, too,” Katniss says as I head into the living room. 

“Maybe.” 

I don’t tell her that I can’t get any panels done today since, as Raven informed me, we are out of black, pink, and green. Markers, that is, because instead of using their stash of Crayolas -- “Because our black was all dried up!” -- Raven “borrowed” my good ones, and used those three colors up. All ten shades of them. I’ll have to go buy new markers, and I hate to splurge on more, expensive art supplies when I’m not even employed right now.

Our four kids are currently absorbed in watching cartoons on TV. Caiden laying on his back, claiming the entire couch, his blanket held up to his mouth. Raven on her feet, swaying and dancing slightly to the music. The twins sitting and pounding their fists on the carpet in glee.

“I’m serious, Peeta. You should try to get them published somehow. Online, at the least. Oh shoot. Gail’s waving at me. I think we have another meeting. This stupid reorganization is killing us.”

“Alright. See you tonight.”

“Wish it was sooner,” she says wistfully and then hangs up. I send the pictures to her before I pocket my phone and join the kids. I need a few minutes off my feet before we start lunch.

As soon as I sit on the couch, Caiden shifts to lay his head on my leg and I smile. Can’t help brushing back his crazy blonde curls as long as he’ll let me. That’s only about two minutes before he swats my hand away. He’s five going on thirteen most days.

When Raven was born, we knew Katniss would continue to work full time. Her job at the labs brought in more than mine at the bakery, especially with the promotion she got right before we found out she was pregnant. Plus things with my parents had made working for Dad at the bakery a dicey situation. We tried the two working parents thing for awhile, but Raven kept getting sick at her daycare, slowly eating away at our vacation time, our wallets, and most importantly...our sanity as parents. Right around her six months old mark came the tough decision. Could we survive on just one paycheck? Turns out, the answer was ‘yes.’ If it was Katniss’ paycheck, especially given the health care plan that came with her salary.

While she wavered in guilt and uncertainty, I did everything I could to let her know I wanted to, didn’t mind in the slightest, being a stay-at-home dad. Actually, I’ve loved it. And as Katniss kept rising in the ranks at her job, and Caiden came along and then Surprise! Our twins Willow and Wren, there were plenty of reasons for me to just stay at home. But with Raven in school full time, Caiden starting kindergarten in two months, and my mother’s offer to keep the twins free of charge during the day, I’ve run out of excuses to not go back to work. Really the only one that I’m clinging to is that I stayed home with the older two, it’s only fair that I give the same kind of attention to the twins, but that’d mean another four years out of the full time workforce.

And no one will hire me right now after seven years out of it.

I really don’t want to go back to working for my dad at the bakery, not with the snide remarks his third wife - Felicia - keeps making about how much Dad paid out to send me to school only for my business degree to turn out  _ exceptionally  _ useful, even though she wasn’t even in the picture then so how’s it affect her again? She also likes to point out how  _ manly _ I must feel with a wife who wears the pants and earns the bread. Haha. Sexist bread puns. How original.

It’s not that I actually think Felicia’s insults have any merit. I’m proud of what Katniss has accomplished, and I have been perfectly content staying at home with the kids, but that doesn’t mean her constant commentary doesn’t get to me on some level. I shouldn’t have to put up with that. No one should, and quite honestly Dad’s handling of his marriages has put a serious strain on my relationship with him, too. Especially the way he just looks the other way when it involves his wife insulting me or one of my brothers, or trying to exert some kind of control over us. 

But I will suck it up and deal if that’s what it takes to help take care of our family. We might need me to go back to work soon. Over the past few months, Katniss has been more stressed than usual. She misses working in the field and it’s really only one of her new coworkers keeping her sane at this point. It helps her tremendously to have a friend at work, especially since she’s always felt like she’s not good at making friends.

My phone vibrates and I check to see the heart-eye emoji she sent me in response to our hamster hunt pictures. I smile a little, my mind half occupied with lunch preparations. The video ends and Raven turns off the TV.

“Daddy, when is Mama coming home?”

“Dinner time, bud,” I tell Caiden and he huffs, grabs my hand and places it back on his head. I bite back my smile and rub my hand over his soft curls. Since he can’t have Mom’s attention, he’ll take second best -- Dad’s.

“I’m hungry, what’s for lunch?” Raven asks and plops on the edge of the couch.

“Well…” I say and then an idea occurs to me. “Hold on…”

I take my phone back out and text Katniss.

_ Hope the pics bring you smiles over lunch. _

**_Ugh. They will. Not enough time between meetings today, gonna be stuck in the break room for lunch._ **

Perfect.

“You guys wanna go see Mommy for lunch?”

“Yay!” Caiden springs up and Raven does a quick spin. The twins clap and giggle with glee, likely not understanding anything but the excitement.

“When we get back, maybe we’ll get out the sprinkler, yeah?”

I get another chorus of excitement and then begins the chaos of getting lunches made and packed, and then getting four kids out the door and into the car.

“You’re gonna hurt someone if you throw your shoe, Caiden. Ask for help tying it. Much better way to get attention.”

“We’re eating real lunch, not snack lunch. More oatmeal crisps will make you too full for sandwiches!”

“Anyone seen the diaper b-- thanks, Raven.”

While the drive downtown goes smoothly -- only one disagreement over whether or not I should skip a song on the radio -- the trip from the car into Katniss’ office is a bit of a circus. The recently beefed up security means I have to juggle the twins in their stroller, Raven’s excitement, Caiden’s curiosity, and my wallet all to get my ID out while the security guard watches, unamused. We manage it, though, and I’m hoping we have enough time to at least eat with Katniss as we head upstairs.

“Hey, Peeta. Haven’t seen you around here in awhile,” Herbert Mitchell greets me. “Whoa! The kids are huge! What’re you feeding them?”

“Donuts, cottage cheese, and magic beans,” I say and he laughs. “Katniss busy?”

“I think she just ducked into the break room for her lunch,” Mitchell says.

“Thanks,” I say and chorale my kids in the right direction. I spot Katniss through the floor to ceiling glass partitions separating the cubicle farm from the break area. She’s seated at a table with a dark haired man in a three piece suit who I don’t recognize. Must be one of the new hires.

As we approach, he leans over close to her and something Katniss says has him throwing his head back in laughter. And placing his hand on her shoulder for just a second.

My stomach sinks like a rock and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I tell myself I’m imagining things. Seeing things that aren’t really happening. Blowing it out of proportion because of this damned job search. I almost convince myself by the time Raven shoves through the door with Caiden hot on her heels.

“Mommy!”

Katniss spins in her seat and her face brightens the instant she spots the kids. She basically falls to the floor to hug Raven and Caiden and smother them with kisses.

“Oh my goodness! What a surprise! I’ve missed you this morning!” Katniss is saying as I make it through the door with the twins, lifting the messenger bag turned diaper bag that I’m carrying across my chest to set it on the floor.

The man rises from his seat and the sinking feeling just deepens as he looks me over. Makes an assessment and smirks a little. I’m not stupid. He’s tall, at least six inches (probably closer to eight) taller than me, lean, dressed in an expensive looking suit with shoes that gleam in the light. Professional. Put together. Fuck him, he’s not ugly either. And he was making eyes at Katniss.

I feel like a mole in comparison.

But since Katniss has given no real hint that she’s unhappy with our marriage, just a little stressed out at work, I brush it aside as best I can as just me being paranoid and insecure. I plaster a smile on my face and unstrap Willow from the stroller as Katniss scoops up Wren and nuzzles his baby cheeks with her nose before turning to do the same with Willow in my arms, one hand resting on my bicep as she leans in.

“So is this your family?” the man asks.

“Yes. These are my babies. Raven, Caiden, Willow, Wren.”

“And you must be Mr. Everdeen,” he says to me.

“Actually, the last name is Everlark,” Katniss corrects before kissing Wren loudly and earning a giggle. The man tilts his head at me.

“Huh. Thought you were still using your maiden name, Catnip,” he says. Catnip? Where’s he get off calling her some kind of pet name? I hold tight to Willow, and resist the growing urge to throw this asshole to the ground. I’ve still got some old wrestling moves perfected from wrangling four kids. 

“Professionally I do. Legally we use a blended name,” Katniss explains, but she’s too busy cooing at Wren and listening to Caiden detail our hamster hunt this morning to notice the look I get for that bit of personal information. Fuck him again. I like our name. We wanted to keep a piece of both our families. And what’s with the Catnip thing?!

“I’m Peeta, Katniss’ husband,” I say and extend one hand towards him, hoping maybe speech will help quell this churning feeling of inadequacy. He takes it and squeezes hard. Alright dude, I get the message. You think your dick is bigger than mine. Whatever.

“Gale Hawthorne,” he says with a smile that may as well be made of bricks for the way it smacks me.

Gale Hawthorne. Not Gail. Her childhood friend who she hadn’t talked to in over fifteen years and who recently took a job here. Gale who shares all kinds of things in common with Katniss -- a love for hunting and the outdoors, a passion for conservation, losing their fathers at an early age, having to step up and care for their siblings, growing up in near poverty and then clawing their way out. Both of them feel more comfortable in nature and prefer field work but took office based jobs to better support their families. Gale who is a man, not a woman like I’d thought. And a good looking, professionally successful man at that.

Now I feel like a mole’s ass.

“You’ve got something on your shirt right there,” Gale points out and Katniss swipes at it. I try to brush it off with a joke.

“Occupational hazard,” I say. Great. Wonderful. I’ve got a jerk in Armani hitting on my wife and I’m unemployed, wearing worn out jeans, shoes that should have been replaced last month, and a cotton Henley embellished with spit up.

Make that the dirt stuck to a mole’s ass...

“Mr. Gale, I have a joke,” Raven says and tugs on his jacket. Gale glances down at her and I half hope he’s awful with kids. At least then I’ll still have that going for me. Katniss would never even consider being with someone who didn’t adore and get along with her babies. Plus then I can tell him to get the fuck away.

But he squats in front of Raven so they’re on the same eye level. “I love jokes.”

“How does a tree check it’s email?”

“Hmmmm….I have no idea,” he says indulgently.

“It logs on!” Raven says and Gale laughs with her. And I see fucking red. Or green. I don’t know, but I’m suddenly sick and regretting bringing the kids here today.

“So what is it that you do...Peeta?” Gale asks as he stands back up, because of course we’re still caught in a dick measuring contest.

“He’s between jobs right now, taking care of the kids in the meantime,” Katniss explains. “But he’s such a talented artist. He draws these amazing comics about--”

“They’re really just a hobby,” I deflect because I have a feeling it’s not going to impress in this crowd.

“Stop it,” Katniss says and bumps her hip into mine. “They’re hysterical. I keep telling him he should sell them or find a way to publish them.”

“That sounds...cute,” Gale says and my teeth grind together. Thankfully, Katniss distracts me from losing my temper.

“Switch!” she says and we exchange which twin we’re holding. There’s another part of this ritual I expect her to skip, given our audience, but I find myself with her fingers in my hair and her lips on mine for just a short kiss before she turns her attention to Willow. My cheeks feel overly warm, and I’m pretty sure she only did that on reflex, but still...

Suck on that, Hawthorne.

I want to say it out loud, but refrain from it to ask Raven and Caiden to get get the lunches set up. “Mommy doesn’t have a lot of time today, so we’ll have to eat fast.”

“Well, I don’t want to crowd. I’d love to hear more jokes next time I see you, Raven,” Gale says and Raven blushes and I grind my teeth together. I think I’ve filed down my back molars at this point. “I’ll see you later, Catnip. We’ve still got a lot to get done today. Might be a late night.”

“Alright,” Katniss says, and it’s some consolation to me that she barely even looks up from our kids as Caiden holds out her chair and bows, inviting her to sit for her meal. “Why thank you.”

It turns out to be a pleasant lunch. Raven tells more jokes that Katniss laughs at uproariously. Caiden eats standing up and leaning into her side, one of her arms around him. The twins are still babies, so they enjoy what snuggles they get and then start to nod off. I would have liked to get them home before their afternoon nap, but when Katniss lingers over strapping them back into their stroller, an almost sad smile on her face, Willow’s pudgy baby hands gripping and tugging at Katniss’ hair, it’s clear that shaking up their schedule is completely worth it.

“We’ll see you tonight,” I say as she finally stands up. She turns to me and wraps her arms around me, holding me tight enough to make my ribs ache a little.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I  _ really _ needed to see them today.”

“Of course,” I say as she pulls back from me a little. I’m wondering if I can get away with another public kiss when Caiden beats me to the question.

“You aren’t gonna get all kissy, are you?” he grumbles, his nose all scrunched up in disgust.

“Maybe,” Katniss says teasingly then lets go of me to lunge at him. He giggles and wriggles, but not enough to get free of her hugs or to prevent her from planting several loud kisses on his cheek. When he finally squirms free, eyes bright and happy, Katniss stands up and gives a quick hug to Raven. “So what are the plans for the afternoon?”

“I was thinking playground or sprinkler in the backyard.”

“Sprinkler in the yard!” Raven shouts.

“Yeah!” Caiden agrees and they turn pleading eyes on me.

“Alright.” It’ll be more work for me, but gives the twins a chance to get their full nap if I can keep them awake on the drive home.

I sneak one kiss onto Katniss’ cheek before we have to let her get back to work and parade out of the building. Unfortunately, the twins are fast asleep before we’re even halfway home. Getting them out of the car wakes them and then I’ve got two cranky nine month olds, an excited eight year old with her bathing suit on backwards, and a sulking five year old who misses his Mama and doesn’t know how to express it just yet.

With a little help from Raven, I’m able to get the sprinkler ready, the wading pool filled, and the twins all sunscreened up.

My phone goes off when I’m elbow deep in changing out regular diapers for swim diapers. “Can you see who that is, Raven?”

She gets my phone from my back pocket. “It’s Mommy! She says: Loved seeing the kids today. Hugs and kisses to all of them.”

Caiden wanders over and crowds the screen as I finish getting Wren changed and ready for water play outside.

“Also those … jeans? you were … wearing today. They make me want to…”

I snatch the phone up out of her hands before she can finish. “Great reading, Raven. Can you and Caiden go get the towels? I think we’re about ready to go outside.”

“Okay!” she says but Caiden stares at me suspiciously.

“What did Mommy say?”

“It was for me, bud. Kissy stuff,” I tell him and he huffs but follows his sister as I glance at the screen, glad that I stopped Raven from reading the rest.

**_Also those jeans you were wearing today. They make me want to sink my teeth into your ass._ **

**_Or my fingers, grabbing hold for dear life as you make me come all over your cock._ **

**_I need to get fucked tonight, Peeta. You up for the job? ;)_ **

Whoa. I’d like to think it really was just me in my jeans that did this to her, so I manage a teasing question in response, but I’ll admit there’s still some lingering insecurities in my question as well. 

_ I don’t know. Sure there’s not a more qualified applicant? _

A quick flash of Gale in his suit, flirting with my wife, torments me. They’d make a striking couple. But those are dangerous thoughts. And as Raven shouts at me that they have the towels, Katniss’ answer comes in.

**_You are the only person on the planet qualified for this job._ **

_ Then I’ll get right on it. _

That goes a long way to quell some of my irrational jealousies and I’m able to smile for our kids and make it a fun afternoon.

I sit in the shallow water in the wading pool with the twins, while Raven races through the sparkling water of the sprinkler and Caiden stands off to the side for a good ten minutes before finally joining his sister.

Caiden’s cheeks are bright red, and although that’s normal in this heat, I make sure they’re both drinking water and refresh their sunscreen at one point. It’s mostly a quiet afternoon.

No injuries and no fights is a quiet afternoon, in my opinion.

When the twins start to get cranky, we head inside. It’s a circus of towels and bathing suits and grass stuck to skin, but once all four are clean and dry and dressed, we have a snack. By then the twins are droopy eyed and I miraculously manage to get them both asleep for a short nap, to make up for their regular nap being truncated earlier. With the monitor clipped to my belt, we take care of some chores. Caiden helps me move some of the laundry and then Raven helps me start dinner.

Before I know it, I’ve got Willow on my hip, sleepily chewing her toy key ring and smacking it against my chest as she babbles and we cook. Raven and Caiden are both sitting at the counter, drawing pictures, and Wren is sitting under the table, having a conference with a few stuffed toys. Katniss walks in, her face pinched in a scowl and her phone to her ear.

“No, I can’t make that week,” she tells them. “That vacation time has been on the books for months. We can find someone else to go.”

I pause and watch her as she quietly greets each of the kids before heading towards our bedroom. I have a feeling she’s talking about our “ten year” anniversary trip we’ve been planning. It’s been a long time since we’ve gone away somewhere, just the two of us, and we’ve already pushed this trip back two years because her mother got sick and then she was pregnant with the twins. Technically our anniversary was two months ago, but that timing didn’t work out either.

“I can bring Gale up to speed and he can make the presentation,” is the last thing I hear before she disappears into our room to change out of her work clothes.

I have mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, it means she’s doing everything she can to make sure we don’t have to cancel our trip again. On the other hand, it means she’ll be spending more time with Gale leading up to the trip itself...

_ Don’t think like that. Stop it. Stop it,  _ I tell myself silently. She deserves to have a friend at work. I cannot ask her to end a friendship, regardless of how shitty it might make me feel knowing that he could make a pass at her.

Maybe he already has.

I shake my head to dislodge the toxic thoughts and make faces at Willow, respond to some of her babbling, explaining what we’re doing in the kitchen as I work.

“Dinner’s ready,” I tell Katniss when she returns, braiding her hair back so it’s out of her way, dressed in comfortable leggings and an overly large t-shirt over a tank top. The t-shirt is one of mine from college and a barbaric satisfaction taunts away some of the jealousy I’ve been feeling.

My old shirts are her comfort clothes. Hawthorne can suck on that, too.

“Smells delicious,” she says as she takes Willow from me and gets the twins set up in their high chairs. “I’ll wash dishes tonight.”

“You sure?” I ask.

“I think I need the monotony to help clear my head.”

We don’t get a chance to discuss work or why she’s facing a possible anniversary trip cancellation, or anything about us really. The kids demand our full attention through dinner. Spoon feeding the twins, carrying conversations with Raven and Caiden. That’s just life with four kids. Sometimes we have to wait for after they’re in bed to meet our needs.

Then after dinner, Caiden wants to play music so I rehearse with the kids while Katniss cleans up the kitchen. When she’s done, she collapses on the couch to watch our kids perform their concert. By the time they’ve played three encores, it’s bath time, which used to take both of us, but has gotten easier for one to handle now that Raven and Caiden can both take care of themselves and just need some supervision and gentle nudges.

Still, it’s nice when both of us can be involved in getting the kids bathed and ready for bed, tucking them in together, kissing them all good night before Katniss sings a lullaby to the twins. Once they’re all in bed, I lay down on the couch.

“Oof,” I grunt as Katniss stretches out on top of me, almost kneeing me in the crotch in the process. She mutters an apology and then groans.

“Today was such a headache.”

“Wanna talk about it?” I ask and start rubbing my hands over her back while she vents. The phone conversation makes sense with context. One of the junior members on the team got injured in a water skiing accident over the weekend and won’t be able to make a conference in two weeks. He’ll still be recovering from surgery.

“So they wanted me to go, but I am not moving our trip again if it can be helped. I’ll just have to bring Gale in on one more thing.”

“I haven’t finalized our reservations yet. I can still change them. Where is this conference?” I ask and she lifts her head off my chest to scowl at me.

“No.”

“What?”

“I know you, Peeta. You’re about to suggest that you accompany me to the conference and we treat it as our anniversary trip.”

“Well it’d solve the problem.”

“No. I am not accepting the keep everybody happy solution. I don’t want it this time. You are on the hook for a week of romancing me, seducing me, and loving me like we’re on our honeymoon again. I am not letting work get in the way of that.”

“Okay,” I say with a soft laugh, because her vehemence is a definite boost to my ego. Then my mouth curls up in a smile as I trail the backs of my fingers over her cheek, to her ear so I can tuck back some loose hair. “Now...about that job you wanted me to take care of...”

Her eyes sparkle for a moment and her lips twitch as she slides up my body and presses her lips to mine. She moans softly and runs her fingers through my hair. My eyes drift shut as we kiss. Our movements quickly gain heat. She ignores the first chime from her phone on the end table, hands gliding down my chest as she shifts restlessly over me. The friction and the taste of our kisses send my head spinning, my heart pounding, blood rushing to my groin.

The second chime and the third quickly on it’s heels turn out to be too much. With a groan, Katniss sits up and snatches her phone off the table. Her brow furrows as she swipes to open the messages.

“It’s Gale. Wants some details about the conference and -- “

“Can it wait?” I ask and Katniss lifts her head to stare at me. Damnit, I didn’t mean to sound that petulant. “I’ll just go check on the kids.”

I stand and leave her to it, pissed at myself for acting that way and at him for interrupting, and alright at her too for allowing it. It feels like some kind of boundary he’s crossing, texting her this late at night during time that’s set aside for us as a married couple, and if she lets him cross that boundary, what other ones is he allowed to cross? I realize we’ve been married twelve years and some of the shine has worn off. We’re not as hot and heavy as we were when we first got married. Age and four kids will do that. It’s not even like this is the first time some asshole has hit on her while we’ve been together, but something about this time hurts deep.

It’s after I’ve finished checking on the kids -- fast asleep -- as I linger in the hall and listen to Katniss talking quietly on the phone that it hits me. Twelve years. That’s around the point in my parents’ marriage when my Dad started fooling around. Had his first affair. I lean against the wall and let my head fall back. My mother told me the whole story just a few years ago, when Dad was in the middle of divorcing his second wife so he could marry his third -- who was also yet another one of his mistresses. But as Katniss is fond of pointing out, at least this one is only fifteen years younger than him.

I don’t want my parents’ failures poisoning my marriage with Katniss. It’s like some kind of death spiral that I don’t know how to correct. I don’t even know if there’s a real problem. I’m not sure I’d be this upset if Gale had turned out to be a woman like I’d originally thought. That feels like some kind of double standard I don’t want to indulge in. Katniss can be friends with whoever she wants, including other guys, but I swear he was making moves on her today. It might all be in my head, and yet I can’t seem to stop the dark thoughts overtaking my brain. I need to stop this fatalistic way of thinking right now. Katniss laughs, and the task seems impossible. 

“I’ll have to check with Peeta to make sure we don’t have anything planned, but I’m sure the kids would love it, Prim.”

And just like that, all the fears inside me vanish. Prim. She’s on the phone with Prim. I’m losing it over nothing. I know Katniss. I know how deep her loyalties run, and while I’m not sure I want her remaining faithful to our marriage merely because she’s not capable of willful betrayal, I can at least convince myself that this aspect of her character means I’ll get some kind of warning if our marriage is failing.

With a deep breath, I join her in the kitchen. She’s got two bowls out and an ice cream scooper in her hand. She finishes filling the bowls and sets the scooper in the sink, pops the lid back on the carton, points to the dessert and smiles at me. I grab the hot fudge and set to work warming it up while she finishes talking to her sister. 

We settle at the table to eat the sweet treat after she hangs up.

“Prim wants to take the kids to the zoo this weekend. She’s got a big thing going with the new baby elephant.”

“Great,” I say. “Shouldn’t be a problem. And Caiden will love it.”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll let her know in the morning that we’ll be there.”

We manage to finish our dessert in peace and I gather up the bowls to load into the dishwasher. Her phone goes off again and I spot the name  **_Gale_ ** on the screen above the text bubble. She scowls at it and picks it up. Glances at me and then swipes across the screen.

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” I say and she sighs.

“Yes. He’s got a great work ethic, but he’s also not married and doesn’t have kids.”

Is that a dig at me? Am I holding her back? Fuck. I need to stop. How do you stop intrusive thoughts like these? I don’t want them. Or how do you keep from twisting something innocent into something toxic?

“Okay, well. Don’t stay up too late,” I tell her and head towards the bedroom. She actually follows, still typing on her phone. I consider throwing the thing out a window, but that’s just a tiny bit possessive.

In our room, she sits on the bed and I listen to the rapid swooshing as I change into sleep shorts.

“There. That’s enough of that for tonight,” she says and turns her phone to silent, dropping it on the mattress. She yawns and then grabs her own pajamas before following me into the bathroom. I’m guessing I won’t be taking care of her earlier demand. And that worries me, too.

As I’m brushing my teeth, though, she bumps her hip into mine and smiles before standing in front of her sink to remove her contacts and wash her face. When I’m done, my feet carry me to stand behind her. She’s drying her hands on a towel as I move her braid to drape over one shoulder, my fingertips grazing the back of her neck. She shivers and our eyes meet in the mirror. Just for a second, but all the desire from earlier on the couch rises back up inside me as I lower my head to kiss her neck, right at the junction of her shoulder. Then another one as I set my hands on her shoulders to massage them. A third kiss and I glance up at her face in the mirror.

Her lips have parted and as I kiss her again, her eyes flutter shut and then her teeth dig into her bottom lip, but she’s smiling. Another kiss and I’m rewarded with a brief, quiet moan. But it’s there. So I let my mouth wander up to her ear and set one hand on her stomach to pull her back against my chest, support her tilted head with the other hand, my fingers slipping into the folds of her braid. I keep kissing her and listening to her soft sounds of delight.

_ Mine.  _ Some primal voice in my head growls as, instead of kissing, I suck on a patch of skin.

I pull back slightly, startled by the thought. Katniss groans and leans back against me, lifts her hands to touch me as well. I’ve never thought of her as something belonging to me. Katniss doesn’t belong to anyone. But she turns in my embrace, winds her arms around my neck before plastering her body to mine and snaring my mouth in a frantic kiss that has me holding tight to her shirt --  _ my _ shirt. On  _ my _ wife.

“Peeta,” she whimpers and moves restlessly against me. Then her voice finds strength. “Take me to bed. Now.”

I grab hold of her ass and lift. She wraps her legs around me and starts kissing my neck and ears. The ribbons of pleasure winding their way down my legs makes walking difficult, but I manage and we basically fall onto the bed, the movement separating our mouths. Her arms let go of me at the last second to slow our descent. She stares up at me, but her lips are swollen and darkened from kissing. I’m seized with the need to taste them like that and lean forward to kiss her again. Her body relaxes beneath me, both of us melting together, into the mattress.

My hands are busy keeping my weight from crushing her, but hers burn paths across my body that I can feel through fabric, down to my toes. Mere kisses are thrilling but do nothing to quell the need inside me. If anything, they make it stronger. Urgent and demanding to claim her in some way. To brand myself into her skin and her heart and mark her as --

I lift my head, trying to stop the possessive thoughts. Katniss’ hands clutch at my shoulders, gathering fabric in her hands and shoving my shirt up, ineffectively trying to remove it as her feet slide up and down the sides of my legs.

“Off. Get this off, Peeta.”

The primal part of me obeys and then grabs her shirt, helping her remove that and nipping, sucking at her flesh, leaving behind red, puckered patches and strangled sounds hovering in the air around us.

“Oh my ga--  _ yes _ ,” she moans and arches into the touch, fingers spearing through my hair and driving me further down her body. Fuck I can already smell her arousal and she’s not even naked yet.

I nuzzle her over her leggings and inhale her scent, let it burn through my senses and drug me. Her hips lift into me and I taste cotton and need as she writhes, her voice pleading with me. I hook my fingers on her leggings and together, we remove the last barriers separating her pussy and my lips.

“I need this. Fuck you have no idea how badly I need your mouth on me,” she groans and for some reason, it makes me stop. I hover over her and she lifts her head to stare at me, poised between her legs. When was the last time I ate her out? Really ate her out, taking my time with her? It’s been awhile. The last few times we’ve made love, it’s been a little rushed. Squeezed in before the kids wake up or before we fall asleep at night. Artificial lubricant lessening the need for foreplay, and as I lay there faced with her sex and the images of another man flirting with her, a wicked idea takes shape.

“Alright,” I say. “But I’m not making you come with my mouth.”

“What?”

Instead of answering or explaining, I tease her lips with my tongue and then lick up her slit, use my fingers to bare her clit and toy with that for a second, watching her eyes shut and her head fall back as she grips the sheets. Her knees bend up as I worship her with my mouth. Her thighs quiver on either side of my head and I swirl my fingers through her arousal. She’s a little wet, but I want her fucking dripping and begging for my cock. So I keep going.

Soft sighs turn to short squeaks and heavy breaths interspersed with choked off moans. She’s trying to control her reaction, but when I slide my fingers inside her and curl them, massaging her, the noises shift again. Hands pull on sheets and her feet curl so that her toes dig into the mattress. Her torso twists and now I’m getting full, throaty moans and one word pleas. I feel her walls contract once and I back off.

“Oh! Fuck, don’t stop. I was close. So close.”

“You’re too coherent,” I say and lazily stroke my fingers inside her, smiling at how much wetter she is now. I trail kisses over her hips and thighs. Soft nips that make her jump. “I thought you wanted to get fucked.”

She opens her mouth to respond and that’s when I suck on her clit. Words turn to a soft scream that she stifles in an instant. Harder and faster this time until she’s writhing enough to make it difficult for me to keep my mouth on her. Until she’s begging with just one word on repeat and I feel another telltale fluttering around my fingers.

And I stop.

“Fucking hell!” she says and glares at me as I withdraw from her again. Dusky rose stains her cheeks and her wide pupils turn her eyes sultry. Her thrashing has loosened strands of hair from her braid.

I like this view. I’m beyond hard. Throbbing and aching, and the sight of her like this has me involuntarily thrusting down into the mattress to seek some friction. The quick thrill is a warning and I take a few breaths to regain control as I wrap my arms under her thighs, place my palms on the soft inner skin near my cheeks and slowly pry her legs open, pinning them to the bed in my grasp.

“What are you doing?”

“Fucking you,” I say and then watch her reaction as I suck her clit back into my mouth. She grabs hold of my hair and her mouth rounds into a pleasured “o.” Her body bucks and rolls and before long, short notes fly from her lips, warning me that she’s once again close. This time, I release her completely. Moving away with a smile on my face as she shouts in denial and frustration.

“What are you so mad about?” I ask as I rise up on my knees and examine my fingers, suck some of her off of them and moan at the taste. Make an obnoxious smacking noise when I pull them back out and smile down at her splayed open on the bed. “You know when I tease you like this, you wind up coming for about a minute or two straight.”

“Get back here, Mellark,” she snarls and flies up off the bed. She grabs my shoulders, throwing me on the bed and basically ripping my jeans off of me. She’s gentle removing my prosthesis, but then her lips and claws are all over me.

My cock sways towards her and throbs with need. I flex my fingers and swallow, ignoring that primal growl.

_ Plunge. Take.  _ It demands.

But that’s not what I want, I try to argue as her mouth reaches my crotch and she sucks on one testicle for a second and I see only fuzzy stars until she releases me and then straddles me. The fact that her pussy lips are soaked registers and then nothing but bliss as she pins my arms over my head and rolls her hips over me, sliding my dick through the wet folds I just tasted and teased.

“Don’t you dare stop me,” she commands and I shake my head. She releases my wrists. I rest my hands on her thighs and try to control my breathing. To enjoy this instead of coming all over my stomach. It takes a good bit of effort. Especially when she starts fondling her own breasts or reaching behind her to caress my thighs and my sac.

“See. It’s not fucking funny being teased, is it?” she snarls.

“Tease me all you want, Katniss,” I gasp and smile up at her indignation. “I’ve got all night for you.”

She stops, reaches down and grabs my chin in her hand, pushing it up as she bends over and nibbles first at my jaw, then my ear.

“I. Want. To. Come,” she hisses. “Now.”

“I’m not stopping you,” I say. She lifts her head a little and I smile at her scowl. Then she takes my bottom lip in her teeth and worries it for a second. Fuck. Hot. My hands flex on her back and I’m barely aware as she sits up and crawls forward. Then I’ve got a face full of Katniss. My hands grip her cheeks and tilt her body to give me the angle I need to get my tongue inside her, the way I know she likes it. 

“Oh,” she moans and I keep my eyes open, watching her over me as her body rolls with each stroke of my tongue, each soft wave of pleasure I try to give her. She plays with her hair and massages her breasts, no idea how just the sight of her laying claim to her desires like this brings me to the brink of sanity, my senses consumed with her. 

Then one of her hands combs through my hair and grips, tugging strands and anchoring us together. Sharp bursts of pleasure pulse through my skull and down my spine. Her thigh muscles contract, push against my cheeks, again and again as we bring her closer. When her head tips back and she drops a hand behind her to dig her nails into my chest, her motions growing frantic and forceful, more insistently seeking against my mouth, I know she’s right on the brink of release.

So I push off the bed and savor her squeak of surprise as her back hits the sheets. I nip at her thighs and grin at the sight of her labia. Engorged with need, opening like petals after rain, glistening with need. I lift my arrogantly pleased expression to gaze up at her, knowing my face is covered in her. 

“I thought you wanted to come,” I tease and kiss my way up her body. She can’t seem to lie still, and complains in a sexy, desperate whimper that slithers through my thoughts straight to my core.  _ Mine _ . 

“You won’t let me.”

“I told you I would,” I remind her with a quick suck on her collar bone before I settle between her thighs. I’m playing with fire, though. I know it when my cock slides against her pussy lips and I nearly lose my mind. I use words to gain some control, rocking my hips so my cock slides through the welcoming cradle of her parted lips as I speak. “But what if I want to be inside you when you come? What if I want to feel you squeeze my cock, pull it deeper into you? What if I want to feel your pussy on my skin, your juices covering me and marking me as yours.”

A string of mumbled profanity tumbles from her lips as she bends one arm over her head and grabs onto the comforter. Her hips roll beneath me and her legs embrace me tight then release with each movement. She holds me close. So close, but I want to see her eyes.

“Yes,” she gasps as I thrust with a touch more force.

“Yes what?” I whisper and she groans, arching her body into mine and finally opening her eyes to meet mine.

“Yes, Peeta! I want that too. Fuck I want your cock inside me.” Her voice is quiet, but the needy tone screams in my skull as I shift my hips so I can tease her with just the head. Katniss is having none of it, though. Her frustrated growl is all the warning I get before she bends her body and claims my cock in one swift stroke.

“Fuck,” I groan, and the primal voice in my head growls in satisfaction.

“Yes,” she draws the words out as her head falls back and her hips rock gently beneath mine. I slide one hand beneath her ass to help keep her moving. Suck on her breasts and focus on the feel of her fingers in my hair, not the feel of her wet and tight around me, sucking me under the waves of pleasure.

_ Not yet. Not yet,  _ I plead with my body. It’s been awhile since we’ve had to test my recovery time. I’d rather just last as long as I can and not risk disappointing her. Katniss tugs on my hair then, bringing my mouth to her parted lips.

“Kiss me,” she pleads. Primal and needy melts away, dissolved into loving and gentle as we hold each other and rock, our lips and bodies joined, moving in harmony. I dangle over the edge, stare for one second at the shimmering lights of release and then force myself to move. To roll and lift her. Katniss rises over me and settles. I hand her control and caress over her thighs as she moves, takes and gives. My hands curve around to her back and up to her braid, tug down on the elastic holding it together.

“Closer,” she whispers, reaching down to pull on my shoulders, bringing me up to embrace her. Our torsos press together and her pace quickens, her head falls back, exposing her throat to my lips. Her hands roam over me, caressing and clawing in turns. I unwind one plait of her hair at a time until I can run my fingers through it. As I do, she joins our lips again. Just for a moment until a soft cry of pleasure flies out of her throat and parts our mouths.

“I love you. Peeta. So much.”

My heart skips and trips, stumbles before it roars to life at her words. The vulnerable tone in her voice.

“I love you, Katniss. More than you’ll ever know.” She smiles at me, tremulous and something else for just a moment before she bites her lip and shakes her head.

“This feels so good, I don’t wanna stop.”

“So don’t.”

“But I need to come. Fuck, I need it so badly. Peeta, please?”

My brains scrambles for a moment and then settles on something. I fall back on the bed and push on her hips to separate us, but she won’t allow it. “Turn around,” I suggest.

“Oh,” she says with a smile and kisses me again. A brief, silken folding together of lips before she pushes herself off of me. “I like the way you think.”

I watch as she rises up and my dick slaps down on my abdomen, slick with her juices. She turns around, straddles me facing my feet this time, grabs my cock and brings it upright, positioning me between her folds again. Bracing her hands on my chest, she lowers then lifts her hips, sliding me through warmth as the air conditioner kicks on and a cold blast hits the exposed underside of my cock. It muddles my brain and I grab hold of her ass and my control.

Thankfully, she only taunts me with this for a few passes before finally bending forward and sliding my cock all the way inside her again.

“Oh fuck, yeah. I like this one,” she moans. 

“So do I. The feel of you at this angle is fucking heaven. And the way you came hard enough to squirt all over me last time we tried this….” 

She sits up straight, brushing her wayward hair so it falls down her back. Her hips start slow, small motions so I don’t slip out of her. My eyes roll back in my head for a second and my fingers clench. I don’t bother controlling the sounds rising up out of my chest, flying free from my mouth. Our skin pebbles with the cold and I swallow as I imagine how puckered her nipples probably are right now. I don’t have to imagine for long, her hands reach down to cover mine, guide them in caressing up and down her torso then back up to cup her breasts.

“Touch me.”

I can feel the build in my balls, the tightening right before release and I bite my lip hard, flex my foot, move my legs, anything to give me time. To search for something to focus on besides the gorgeous view in front of me -- Katniss’ back and her ass rolling over me with each motion of her hips. Her hair swaying, begging for me to wrap it around my fist and pull. The feel of her sliding over me and her breasts heavy in my palms. Fuck, I need to cool it.

Then I think of the first time we tried to have sex after Raven was born. How I unthinkingly took a few hard sucks on Katniss’ breast and wound up with a mouthful of milk. I tried not to choke, coughing, and sputtering while Katniss tried not to laugh at me. We both failed and she wound up pumping milk for Raven to drink later, since I’d started the flow and Katniss didn’t want to waste. Then we slept instead, wrapped in each other’s arms. But the next time we had sex, I had learned my lesson and left her breasts alone, sucked on her pussy instead, with much more pleasurable results for us both.

Katniss moves over me and the memory of one embarrassing time together leads to another. All the times I’ve had to hide an erection or how I’m still coated with her arousal while talking to family because we’d almost gotten caught again. Our wedding night with neighbors overhearing and fire alarms. Sunburns and sprained ankles on our honeymoon. Katniss completely naked burrowing under the covers of our bed because one of the kids wandered in during the middle of the night. Our wedding day. Haymitch overhearing us talk about it. The portrait of us post-coitus that still hangs somewhere in almost every one of our family member’s homes… including ours. My eyes flick over to it on our wall and I smile. Her insistence after my brother walked in on us one Christmas that Haymitch had cursed us somehow when he stepped on her wedding dress.

She’s moaning louder and her movements on me gain strength. The building euphoria is getting difficult to ignore. I rise up and my hand sweeps aside then lands on something solid on the bed. I glance down and frown for a second before tossing aside her phone, continue caressing her as she leans forward, hands now braced on my thighs. I kiss her neck and murmur encouragements to her. Whispered words about how beautiful she is and how much I desire her. Still. That’s never faded. Maybe it’s become less obvious, but god how I still love her and want her.

My words get lost beneath her moans and the sounds of our bodies. I can’t be sure she even hears them until she begs me to keep talking. Her hands cover mine again, twining our fingers together and dragging my touch down. Down to her thighs. I rest my head on her and stare down at our fingers, our wedding bands next to each other and for some reason, it makes me smile and my heart swell. 

“Come for me, Katniss,” I whisper and kiss her back.

“Peeta,” she gasps as her walls start to flutter. “Yes. Please. Come with me?”

I grip her hip with my right hand, shift our joined left hands to seek out her clit and rub her closer, higher. It’s a good thing our kids are all heavy sleepers because the sounds spiraling out of her throat into the night are something else. My teeth scrape her back as she squeezes me once and then her voice warbles.

“Oh fuck, Peeta.”

And the sound of her singing my name while she’s caught in release, the feel of her clenching my cock and gushing over me sends me reeling. She falls back against me and we flop on the bed. I feel flashes of cold and hot as euphoria breaks free in tremors and loud groans that wrack my frame.

When the haze lifts, I take note of my surroundings. The musk of sex heavy in the air around us, the labored sounds of our breathing and the pushing of our bodies as a result. Her body on top of me, her right hand toying with my hair. Both my hands cling to her hips. Our legs contorted on the sheets. And her left hand stroking my cock. I shiver and move so that I can look her in the eyes. The sleepy, satisfied haze over her smoky irises and the telltale flush over her cheeks that brightens her skin.

“What happened?”

“We fucked. It was amazing,” she sighs and smiles. I can’t stop the laugh bubbling up from inside me.

“No disasters?”

“Unless you count your cock sliding out of me as you were coming and making a mess.”

“Shit,” I mutter and lift my head to see my cum splattered all over her from clit to breasts. A big mess. “I didn’t ruin your orgasm, did I?”

“Not in the least.”

_Claim._ _Mark._ The primal voice growls again and my lips twitch.

“I think I like seeing it there,” I whisper and she tilts her head to examine the sight of us. She releases my cock then and hums.

“Suppose it’s only fair since I may have made a mess on you first.”

I grab a few tissues and clean up enough so that we can cuddle comfortably for a few minutes. I wrap my arms around her and wriggle until we’re facing each other enough to kiss. I caress her cheek, try to tame some of her hair, now damp with perspiration.

“I know I’ve been distracted lately,” she whispers when we manage to stop kissing. Her voice is sleepy but also a little scared. I can feel my brow furrowing as worries rise back up to the forefront of my brain. “It’s just work has been insane and I feel like I barely get to spend any time with the kids. I know it isn’t fair, but I think I was starting to feel a little jealous of you and maybe took it out on you.”

“What? When?” I ask, confused at the direction this has taken. I thought I was the one acting jealous.

“Pushing you to go back to work. Maybe making some demands that weren’t really fair. I know it’s not easy being the stay-at-home dad. Stay-at-home moms get such a bad deal and sometimes I think it’s almost worse for you, being a dad, you know?”

“Eh, what do those people know anyways?” I say with a shrug. I don’t really care to compare who has it worse, stay-at-home parents or working moms.

“I just want you to know how much I love you, and our family. But also, I  _ really _ need this trip we’ve been planning. I need the time away with you to just relax and recharge. So I need you to do what you did tonight. Keep reminding me that there are parts of my job that can wait.”

“Okay,” I say and lift her hand to my mouth for a soft kiss. She smiles then and rolls over to curl into my side, ignoring the remaining mess.

“Maybe our trip will be like our honeymoon.”

“Why would you wish that on us?” I ask and she laughs, pushes on my chest playfully.

“Stop it. I know I joke about being cursed, but I loved our honeymoon. I fell even deeper in love with you that week than I already was.” That statement has me flying on happiness.

“Can we skip the sunburn and urgent care visits this time?” I ask and she’s still laughing as she kisses me again.

“Please. Let’s.”

Guilt hits me then and I lace our fingers together. “While we’re sharing...I should confess that I got pretty jealous myself today.”

“You miss working.”

“It wasn’t that,” I say and take a deep breath. “Actually it was Gale.”

“Gale?” she says, her tone confused.

“You never mentioned that he was a him and I’ve been assuming for the past six months that Gale was a woman.”

“I didn’t?” she asks and shakes her head. “That still doesn’t explain why you were jealous. I work with a lot of men.”

“Not men you were best friends with in high school, or have a lot in common with, or who are tall dark and handsome, wear Armani suits, have successful careers--”

“Peeta.”

“See that spiral of thinking is what happened to me today, and I know it’s not rational or fair.”

“But,” she prompts when I fall silent.

“But he was flirting with you. And I had spit up on my shirt.” Katniss laughs at this and cups my cheeks in her hands before planting a kiss on my lips.

“And yet, I only had eyes for you and our amazing children.” She kisses me again and then scowls at me. “He wasn’t flirting with me. Gale and I aren’t like that. We’ve never been like that.”

“You have no idea, the effect you can have,” I tell her as I brush back some of her hair. “Trust me. He was flirting. He called you ‘Catnip.’ And touched your arm. Repeatedly.”

“That’s just his nickname for me. He called me that back in high school.”

“Uh-huh. Remember when Delly moved back to town? And she started calling me Peeta-Butter in front of you?”

Katniss opens her mouth and then snaps it shut. “Okay, fair point. But you and Delly were never romantic and I had no real reason to be jealous. Neither do you.”

I can’t help prodding, just to be sure. Gale seemed awfully bold today for someone who never had an interest in her. I’m guessing Katniss is just oblivious. “So he never once expressed  _ any _ romantic interest in you?”

“No,” she says and shakes her head.

“All that texting tonight? The touching your arm?” She keeps shaking her head for a second before she freezes and her eyes go comically wide. 

Bingo, I think. 

She covers her eyes with one hand and groans. “Oh damnit. I’d forgotten all about it. This is going to make work so awkward.”

“Well?” I prod and she sighs. Drops her hand and stares at my chest, her fingers draw absent circles as she speaks.

“After Dad died and Mom disappeared into her grief, Gale was the only person who seemed to understand what I was dealing with. We didn’t really talk, but we worked together to keep our families going.” 

He had four siblings relying on him and she had Prim. But Gale’s mother was formidable while Katniss’ was broken for a bit. I remember parts of this story, which she told me when she reconnected with him six months ago. When I still thought Gale was a Gail. 

“But then Haymitch and Effie stepped in, and while things started to get better, they couldn’t uproot their lives, so they moved us back here after my sophomore year,” Katniss continues. I know this part too, but wait for her to work up to whatever it is she hasn’t told me before. “The day before I left, I spent some time with Gale. I didn’t really know how to say ‘good-bye.’ And he… he kissed me.”

I remind myself that it was years before I’d even met her, so I can’t put my fist through a wall or throw something. I want to, though.

“He said he had to do it, just once. I didn’t know what to think of it. Then it didn’t matter. We moved away. Gale and I lost touch. I mean, I was sixteen and he was eighteen. I figured he’d moved on and forgotten me. And then, thanks to Haymitch and Effie’s help with Mom and everything, I was actually able to go to college after I graduated.” She lifts her gaze then and smiles. “Where I met you.”

I can’t help but smile at the memories, too. We’d gone to different high schools across town from each other, so we’d never met here. Instead it was our freshman year at a university just three hours away. I was still adjusting to life with a prosthetic and didn’t have a car that I could drive yet, couldn’t afford airfare, and my parents had already expressed concerns over medical expenses and education expenses being a strain on their accounts. In the days leading up to winter break, I searched the message boards for anyone advertising rideshares back to my home city. I found one that seemed reasonable on the price and called the number, stunned when the girl who answered informed me that she knew how to shoot and grew up hunting so she could get rid of my body in the woods if I tried anything and no one would find me for months. There was something in her smoky voice that pulled at me, even as she was threatening me. Since I had no plans to try anything, because I’m not a fucking asshole, I agreed to her terms.

Then I met her. I swear I was in love by the time she dropped me at my parents’ house. I’m just lucky that eventually, she fell in love with me too.

“We’ve had a good life, though, right?” I ask her, still needing some reassurances. “You don’t...regret us, do you?”

“No,” she says, sounding confused again and then shaking her head. “What’s this really about?”

“Twelve years,” I admit and then remind her about Dad’s affairs spanning years and my parents’ nightmare of a divorce.

“That’s not going to be us,” Katniss insists and then yawns. Her next words are whispered, like she’s sharing some kind of secret. Which tells me just how close she is to falling asleep. “Know why?”

“Why?” I whisper back.

“Because this,” she points to my chest, right over my heart, and then at hers in the same spot. “This would’ve happened anyways.”

I’m not sure exactly what she means by “anyways.” Even if she and Gale hadn’t been separated? That’s a fairly bold claim to make, but whatever it means, it sounds nice. Not to mention Katniss is rarely ever mushy romantic like this.

“Peeta, can we shorten our anniversary trip? Just by a day or two. I want to spend some time with the kids before we go. Just us and the kids.”

Her request sends warmth through me and I hold her closer. “Anything you want.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“I love you,” I tell her. I’m not even sure she’s heard me until she pulls our hands up to her cheek, holding mine pressed to her skin.

“Love you too, Peeta. Stay with me?”

And even though I know she’s already asleep, even though it makes no sense for her to ask me now that we’re married and have been for over a decade, even though I’ve already promised it years ago and every day since, I still whisper the word. The same answer I gave her the first night we slept in the same bed, cuddled together for warmth and comfort, and she asked me the exact same question.

“Always.”

In the morning, she’s bright eyed and energetic, enthusiastically greeting the kids for breakfast. Pulling me into a tight embrace and kissing me before she leaves for work.

“See you tonight,” I say and she smiles, pinching my butt and then slipping out the door. I’m downright chipper myself, held aloft by everything that happened last night, our quiet moment in bed afterwards especially.

An hour or so later, the day only gets better. For me at least.

**_The curse is still in full effect._ **

The curse. Her joke that Haymitch somehow cursed us to have awkward sexual exploits for the duration of our marriage when he stepped on her train at our wedding ceremony. I smile slightly and ask her what happened this time. I don’t remember anything odd last night. And I had a vasectomy after the twins were born, so she’s not concerned about getting pregnant again. Maybe she has a hickey on her neck? She types for a while and I start to worry until her answer comes through.

**_Apparently Gale called me last night. And somehow, I answered._ **

I flash back to tossing aside her phone and can’t help the grin spreading across my face. Yes, I know it’s macho and wrong because it means Katniss is now dealing with the brunt of the awkward -- at work, no less. But I can’t help feeling a little vindicated.

_ What did he hear?  _

I’m working through something to say to make her feel better about it when her answer pops up.

**_E V E R Y T H I N G_ **

Everything. Did the pervert stay on long enough to hear us coming together? I can’t feel sorry for him if he did. 

_ You have nothing to feel embarrassed about. We’re married. Have been for 12 years, and we have sex?!?! No way! _

**_Ha. Ha. Ha._ **

_ Also… He shouldn’t have been calling so late. That’s invading your personal life. _

**_You wanna face him across an office today?_ **

_ Gladly ;D _

**_Peeta!_ **

_ On the bright side, you probably won’t have to tell him to stop flirting or touching you. _

**_…….I’m going to kill Haymitch._ **

I laugh at this and the kids ask me what’s so funny. “Uncle Haymitch,” I tell them and it needs no further explanations. Also…

Suck on that for days, Hawthorne. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I've caught up on posting what I had written last year for this story but now... I have nothing new. *head smash* I know what I want to write for chapter 7, but I've been unable to find the right combination of time, motivation, and lack of "Ugh the world suuuuuucks." Depression sucks. Take your meds and try to be nice to one another. I'll keep working on actually writing something new. In the meantime, I have a few other older pieces to post here and will do that in the coming weeks.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I hope you're staying safe.


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